


monkshood and wolfsbane

by Alphinia



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gryffindor, Hogwarts AU, Jiara July, Slow Burn, a look at Jiara in each year of Hogwarts that'll probably get entirely too long, also JJ is a werewolf, lots and lots of pogue friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphinia/pseuds/Alphinia
Summary: One day, JJ was chill. It was him and the boys, laid back and laughing, living the best life he’d ever lived. The full moon was coming up, but the potions were working, and he was worried about it less than ever before.The next, Kiara Carrera appeared at John B’s side like a shadow with curls pulled back messily into a scarlet headband. He called her over at breakfast, at lunch, in class, until she eventually drifted to them on her own. She brought along her loud, obnoxious laughter and expensive colored quils, and JJ didn’t like it.He didn’t like it at all._____________OR JJ and Kiara go through seven years of Hogwarts together. They don't really like each other, until they do.[Jiara Week- Day Three, AU]
Relationships: JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 134
Collections: Jiara July Jubilee





	1. first year

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this like thirty minutes ago. I'm not kidding. Don't judge my editing too hard I BEG. Or my Hogwarts universe, because I kind of just went with it. Good luck following. And I know everyone sorts the pogues differently, but they literally all have to be Gryff for this fic to work, so there's my excuse.

JJ was positive he was going to be packing his bags. Packing his bags and being shipped straight off back to his little corner of hell, because they’d finally gone too far. The teachers were already too lenient on him as it was, letting him even attend Hogwarts with his _condition_.

He’d lasted two months at his bullshit wizard school, as his dad would call it. He could picture Luke Maybank’s lip curling into a snarl already.

Madam Pomfrey gave a swish of her wand, and suddenly Pope was sputtering, lake water splashing out of his mouth and across his chest. JJ still didn’t know how the woman had managed to appear so suddenly, but he was grateful for her promptness. He vowed to send her a shipment of chocolate frogs at some point, if he could get his grubby little hands on them (He’d swipe the chocolate frogs from some snobby, undeserving Slytherin, of course).

“He’s okay!” John B’s fingers interlaced at the back of his neck and squeezed, hard enough that his knuckles turned white.

“Thank fuck,” JJ breathed, and McGonagall’s eyes flashed to him in a hawk-like glare.

“ _Mr. Maybank_. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

The gathering crowd of students _oooohed_ , but JJ was too happy that Pope was not totally drowned to really be bothered. “My bad, McGonagall.”

McGonagall’s hands swept to her hips in a manner that would terrify any sane student, but JJ and John B didn’t quite fall into that category. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their robes still drenched from where they’d waded into the Great Lake to fish Pope out. The water had been freezing, of course, and JJ was pretty sure icicles would be forming on his tie in no time. 

“He’s just fine, Minerva,” Pomfrey said, one hand on Pope’s back. He’d pulled himself into a sitting position, and he was staring up at McGonagall with bulging eyes. He looked like he was about to shit himself.

“What in Godric’s name,” McGonagall demanded. “Were you doing?”

JJ’s lips were sealed. If he’d learned anything from his dad, it was to remain silent, and not risk giving any authority figure ammo to use against him. Even though McGonagall had done nothing but help him, he couldn’t fully trust even her.

John B didn’t have those reservations.

“Sorry. We just thought we’d try to… to surf.”

“To _what_?” John B opened his mouth, like he was going to try to explain the muggle sport he’d seen people doing in his beach hometown, but McGonagall waved a hand. “Never mind. My office. Now.”

“Look like a bunch of dirty pogues…” A whisper of laughter came from the huddle of Slytherins nearby. JJ didn’t know what a pogue was, but he didn’t like it. He did know he’d love to punch the amused look right off of Topper Thornton’s face, though.

The three boys trudged behind McGonagall, robes dripping all the way into the castle until she apparently decided to take pity on them. She turned, flicking her wand in a rather complicated motion until a wave of hot air came out of the tip. It lingered over each one of them in turn, the water evaporating out of their garments as steam.

“Thank you, Professor,” Pope muttered, gaze on the stone floor.

JJ really hoped Pope wouldn’t get the brunt of whatever punishment was coming. He’d tell McGonagall that it was all his idea, or that he forced Pope into it, if he had to.

He and John B had gravitated towards one another right away. A best friend that seemed made for him was something JJ certainly never thought he’d get to experience. And at first, when the little nerdy kid in their dorm started tagging after them, JJ had felt a little resentment. Pope was nothing like them, and the last thing he needed was someone else to keep a secret from, someone to compete over John ‘s affection with. He couldn’t believe he’d swindled it to begin with.

But Pope was loyal, and actually really _really_ good at coming up with plans, even if he usually advised against following through with them.

McGonagall led them up a winding staircase that JJ frequented to get his monthly potions, and then they were in her office. He pretended to look around like the other boys, because he didn’t need them knowing he’d been here multiple times already.

“Sit,” she ordered, and they sat. “Now, please inform me why one of my students almost drowned today?”

“Okay, Professor, but is there a rule against surfing in the Great Lake? Because I’ve never seen one,” John B reasoned. “If it was written down, maybe we would’ve known.”

“So basically what I’m hearing is that expulsion is illegal,” JJ agreed.

“Oh, my Dad’s gonna kill me.” Pope sunk in his seat, hands over his face.

“I’m not going to expel you today.” McGonagall’s tone was dry. They all looked up. “But for using magic unsupervised and being in the Black Lake without permission, that’ll be thirty points apiece. And a detention.”

She must’ve caught JJ’s eye contact with John B, because she added, “You two will be separated.”

* * *

Kiara had her first detention.

She wished she had an interesting story to go with it, like that she’d finally hexed Scarlet Atwood’s mouth shut, so her nasty whispering would cease, but no. She’d overslept for her first period Transfiguration class three times, and even though she’d ran in just past the bell, McGonagall had quietly slipped her a detention slip at the end of Friday’s class.

That was her. A total rebel with hardly any friends. Her mom would have a conniption.

Kiara had exchanged a few pleasantries with her dorm mates, but it didn’t take her long to figure out that she didn’t click with the other Gryffindor girls. Like, at all. It started with them giving her the side eye when she pulled out her mythical creature guidebook from the library and ended on them not bothering to shake her awake when the rest of them went down to breakfast.

So now here she was, scrubbing down the trophy room by hand. Not that she’d learned any cleaning spells yet anyway.

 _A job for house elves,_ her mom would say. They only had one elf, a sweet female named Bipsey, but Anna liked to make sure everyone knew it.

Another Gryffindor first year, John Routledge, had been forced to join her in cleaning the trophy room. He had a freckly smile and a head topped with messy chocolate curls, and there were many worse people she could’ve been working with, she supposed. She was also pretty sure he was a muggleborn, which meant he wasn’t someone her mom had been whispering in her ear about trying to hang out with. Another point in his favor.

“So, what’re you in for?” John asked, not long into detention. Filch had left them for the time being, and she wasn’t surprised he felt the need to fill the silence. She could hear he and his friends jabbering in the back of pretty much every class, especially the Maybank boy.

“Being tardy,” Kiara admitted. A cloud of dust tumbled out of the trophy she’d reached into, and she fought a sneeze. “What about you?”

“Surfing in the Black Lake. Basically swimming.” He laughed, and she noticed that the shoulders of his robes had a thin coating of dust on them. She didn’t want to imagine what her hair would look like by the time she was done, even though her curls were wrapped up in a bun.

“Surfing?”

“Oh, right. Muggle thing.”

Kiara’s dad, Mike, had a muggle father, but she still only knew the bare minimum about the muggle world from their visits. Regardless, her paternal grandparents were warmer than her mother’s stuffy pureblood side of the family.

“Cool,” she said. Because he was kind of nice to talk to, she added, “My grandpa’s a muggle.”

John broke off into a cough. “Ugh. JJ swears they cast a spell to add extra dust every night for detention. I’m thinking he’s right, for once.”

Kiara took in the metal and shelves, all coated in a layer that looked a little too healthy when weekly detentions took place to clean the room. “Okay, _yeah_. Good point.”

The conversation and laughter flowed easily enough for the rest of the night that Kiara almost found herself enjoying the detention. They’d quickly hush whenever Filch would walk by before breaking out into another round of sniggers as soon as his footsteps faded away.

She couldn’t help the ping of disappointment when the caretaker returned, growling at them to get to bed already as his way to announce their detention was over.

They trekked up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, side by side. John looked victorious. “JJ and Pope got stuck with Slugghorn, so they’ll still be listening to him talk.”

Kiara snorted at the thought. “No doubt.” Somehow, they’d arrived at the portrait of the fat lady, so she added, “Cattywampus.”

The door swung open, allowing them to clamor inside. Kiara hesitated. This was the point of obvious separation, so she settled on giving a little wave. “Well. Night, John.”

“John B,” he corrected, like it was something he’d done a thousand times. She quirked an eyebrow, and he explained, “I go by John B, not John.”

“Oh. Seems like kind of a mouthful, doesn’t it?”

He nudged her shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”

With some amount of pleasant surprise, Kiara realized she hoped she would get a chance to.

* * *

One day, JJ was chill. It was him and the boys, laid back and laughing, living the best life he’d ever lived. The full moon was coming up, but the potions were _working_ , and he was worried about it less than ever before.

The next, Kiara Carrera appeared at John B’s side like a shadow with curls pulled back messily into a scarlet headband. He called her over at breakfast, at lunch, in class, until she eventually drifted to them on her own. She brought along her loud, obnoxious laughter and expensive colored quils, and JJ didn’t like it.He didn’t like it at all.

JJ knew Kiara Carrera’s type just by looking at her. He’d noticed her from day one at Hogwarts, strutting behind the other Gryffindors with her designer robes and flashy new school supplies. She was loaded. A girl like that would never stick around with guys like them, and he didn’t care to waste the energy it would take to hide his curse from her for however many weeks she decided to slum it with them.

Pope was too nice to really say anything, even though he too had started off going quiet in Kiara’s presence. But soon enough, he was preening under her attention, too pleased for his own good when she complimented his charm work.

JJ corned John B after Defense Against the Dark Arts, their last class of the day. “Why are you trying to upset the balance, bro?” he demanded, glaring at the back of Kiara’s head. She’d momentarily detached herself from John B to discuss the lecture on zombies with Pope.

“It’s clearly morally wrong—“ Kiara was saying.

“Maybe, but the magic behind it has to be amazing,” Pope replied, his voice carrying down the stone hallway even as they grew farther and farther away.

John B followed his gaze. “What? Kiara’s cool.”

“Cool. _Really?_ ”

“Yeah. And she rounds out partner numbers, so we don’t have to play rock paper scissors anymore.”

 _Cool_. JJ took in John B’s earnest expression, the casual way he talked about Kiara, and he realized that his friend was planning on keeping her around. Once John B decided something like this, it was done.

Well, just because he was a moron, it didn’t mean JJ was going to be. John B and Pope could simp over Kiara’s pleasant face and wide smiles all they wanted to, but he wasn’t going to be the one moping when she inevitably grew bored with them. Just because they liked her, it didn’t mean he had to.

It sucked that she wasn’t quite as unlikable as would be convenient for him.

* * *

Kiara didn’t know why she’d spent so long sulking about not fitting in with the other Gryffindor girls when the Gryffindor boys were _right there_. They conveniently had every class with her, just the same as the girls, only they didn’t roll their eyes if she didn’t want to participate in sneaking bad beautification spells out of library books.

She’d never met someone easier for her to get along with than John B. He was easygoing and loyal, and once he decided they were friends, he was yanking her along for almost everything the boys did. It was disorienting at first, going from wandering the halls alone to actually having people to hang out with.

Pope took her a little longer to click with, if only because he didn’t appear to know how to hold a conversation with her at first. He tended to blurt out random facts when he didn’t know what to say, especially if they pertained to zombies or inferi. She finally figured out how to get the ice well and broken by asking him for help on homework. Her grades were fine, but it certainly didn’t hurt to have a second watchful eye like Pope’s going over her work. He seemed to take it almost as a relief that she asked, because the other two boys showed little interest in schoolwork beyond the practical application.

JJ, however, didn’t like her.

He didn’t make it a secret either. JJ was very open about the way he felt about people, she’d discovered, which was a far cry from the sneaky whispers littering the girls’ dormitory.

Mostly, he ignored her presence entirely. He didn’t laugh at her jokes or give more than a grunt of reply when she greeted him. Occasionally, he would glance at her with this infuriating, slightly demeaning lilt to the corner of his lips, like something about her very existence offended him.

Fall term was quickly ticking by when Kiara received a package with a brand new exploding snap game inside from her parents. It put her in a better mood than usual, seeing as she finally had friends to play it with. It was her family owl, Artemis, that had delivered it, since she’d chosen to bring her cat as her one pet and thus didn’t have a personal one.

“Who wants to play?” Kiara asked, once class was over for the day and they were gathered around one of the tables in the Gryffindor common room. She’d always sucked at exploding snap, but she had a feeling the boys would get a kick out of it.

“I need to study for Defense,” Pope said, apologetically. He’d gotten a total of two marks off on his last exam. “Also I hate loud noises.”

John B shrugged. “No idea how to play, but let’s go.”

As a muggleborn, he didn’t know a whole lot about wizard games, but he always seemed to be up for learning new ones. JJ was usually up for games too, unless Kiara was the one who suggested them. She turned her attention to the blond, who was laid back with his feet propped on the table. A patient smile was painted on her face.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.” JJ followed Pope to the library instead. The _library_. Kiara was sure he couldn’t even find it on his own, but books were a better alternative than her, apparently.

“Why doesn’t he like me?” she asked, finally, her gaze following the tail of his robes as they swished through the portrait hole.

“He does,” John B said, but his voice squeaked at the end. She noted that he didn’t have to ask who she was referring to, either. She raised her brows at him, and he shifted in his chair. “Seriously. It’s just JJ being JJ. He’ll come around.”

Kiara wasn’t so sure. JJ didn’t seem to have an attention span for homework, but when it came to being determined not to like someone, well… he was proving to be pretty stubborn.

If he wanted to be that way, fine. She could be stubborn, too

* * *

The full moon was that night, and there was a dull throb between JJ’s ears. His tongue was numb, either from his sensory overload, or the bitter aftertaste of the Wolfsbane Potion he’d taken every morning that week before breakfast.

It was his third one of the school year, so he was growing a little more comfortable with the routine. Take his potion, fake a detention, head to McGonagall’s office to be led to the Shrieking Shack, just in case.

The Wolfsbane Potion rendered him relatively harmless; he was basically a groggy version of his human mind in a wolf body as opposed to the bloodthirsty beast he transformed into without it. McGonagall had been more than gracious with him, but he understood that she still couldn’t risk leaving him in the school on a full moon, just in case something went awry with the potion. The only way he’d been allowed at Hogwarts to begin with was because his condition wasn’t common knowledge; many parents would be in an uproar otherwise.

He’d never been provided with Wolfsbane before coming to Hogwarts. His father couldn’t afford it, couldn’t brew it, and said it was a shame to curb their natural instincts, regardless.

But it made JJ’s bones feel a little less like they were breaking in half, and kept him from clawing himself to death when he was locked up with nothing to attack. Most of all, he had to worry a lot less about accidentally killing someone. He’d gladly take the potion.

“I predict there are at least three secret passageways on this corridor. Theoretically one could lead there—“

Pope was drawing an imaginary map in the air above his cornflakes, and John B was leaned over eagerly, nodding like he could actually understand what Pope was on about. The three of them had been trying to discover where the kitchens were since their first few weeks at Hogwarts, to little avail. Usually, JJ would be jumping at the bits to explore a new possibility, but right now, it was all he could do to force a mouthful of toast down.

He clenched his eyes shut, trying to drown out Pope’s voice. Everything was louder than normal on these days.

“Are you okay?”

It took JJ a moment to realize that Kiara’s mocha gaze was trained on him. A wrinkle was in her forehead, and her fork was hovering over her plate.

He froze. The boys didn’t tend to notice little things like the dark circles under his eyes or the fact that he could hardly eat the day of a full moon, but Kiara was eyeing him up in a way he really didn’t need. He mentally added another tick to his list of reasons he didn’t like this girl sniffing around.

“No,” JJ bit out, because the best way to lie was to always add a little bit of truth in. “I’d rather be in bed. Wouldn’t you?”

Her fingers clenched on her fork, then released. Kiara had been making a noticeable effort to be nice to him, even when he totally didn’t deserve it. Like, at all. He had been nothing but a jerk to her.

And he didn’t feel bad, exactly, but when she was smiling at him sometimes he forgot _why_ he was being rude.

“I’m just saying, if you’re sick, maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey,” she observed.

JJ couldn’t help but let out an amused puff of air. He’d be seeing Madam Pomfrey later, alright. He figured he’d be lucky if he even made it to the rest of his classes that day, but since he’d definitely be missing them tomorrow, he’d try to stick it out. The staff knew about his condition, but no other students did, so he didn’t want people to take too much note of his disappearance.

“Maybe if you go see her she’ll give you something to relax you,” he said.

Kiara stared at him, and he stared right back. Sometimes, there were little moments like these when his curtness still seemed to catch her off guard. He could see her working her lip across the table, and a part of him willed her to snap at him. The darkest side of him was always itching for a fight on full moon days.

Instead, she gathered herself, primly cutting into her eggs. “Whatever. See if I ask about you the next time you look like you fell out of a tree and hit every branch, then.”

Every stubborn cell in his body couldn’t hold in his snort of genuine laughter at that.

Merlin, he really needed this girl to get a little easier to dislike.

The rest of JJ’s day passed in a blur. He hardly caught anything being said in any of his classes, and he noted the others shooting him questioning looks on more than one occasion when he wasn’t there with some mocking quip about something one of the professors said. They were starting to notice, and he couldn’t have that.

He blew off potions, his last class of the day, altogether.

“Wait, dude, I might skip with you,” John B offered, Kiara and Pope frowning in the background.

JJ shook his head, feigning nonchalance even though his entire being was vibrating at this point. “Nah, I’m gonna sleep before my detention tonight. Might as well get a little snooze in a bed instead of the dungeon.”

“You’re skipping class to sleep? In the middle of the day?” Kiara’s voice was incredulous.

“Detention? Since when—“

“I told you about it yesterday,” JJ tossed over his shoulder, cutting John B off. He picked up his pace, spinning around backwards once more to face them before he disappeared around the corner. “You were too busy inhaling that treacle tart to notice.”

If they said anything else, JJ didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear much else at all apart from the thumping of his heart all the way up the winding stairs to his four-poster.

In the cool darkness with his curtains drawn, he could breathe again.

JJ’s emotions were shitty and hard to deal with at the best of times, but on full moon days, he was a ticking time bomb. During his first one at school, he’d ended up snapping at Pope that he was an annoying nerd, and could he just shut up for once? The second had resulted in him wrestling John B into a not-so-friendly-headlock, an offense he felt significantly less horrible about than the incident with Pope.

All things considered, he was doing pretty well this time.

John B and Pope came crashing into the dormitory when it was just about time for him to go. He slid to the edge of the bed, pulling his secondhand shoes back on.

“You slept through dinner, bro,” Pope pointed out, as if every fiber of JJ’s being wasn’t a biological clock at the moment.

“Yeah, I got that.”

John B evidently didn’t pick up on his tone. “But it’s okay. Know why?” He waited, looking for some dramatic reaction that just had zero chance of coming today. JJ shrugged. “We’re finding the kitchens tonight, boys.”

“On a school night?” Pope muttered, but JJ was already shaking his head.

“Not tonight. I told you I’ve got that det.” JJ tried to sound casual, but he could feel his blood pumping through his veins, faster and faster. He needed to be on his way to McGonagall’s office. “Probably breaking a record by now.”

“But you never turn down sneaking out,” John B complained. He and Pope shared a loaded glance, and JJ’s stomach dropped with dread. John B was looking at him all too suspiciously, and if _John B_ was catching on, well… He might just be screwed. “What is the detention for?”

“Threw some sparks at good old Top in the hallway,” he said easily. JJ spent a large amount of his free time circulating an endless supply of excuses through his brain. He was a screw up, so most of them were more believable than not.

“But when—“

“Seriously guys, I’d love to stay and chat, but I gotta go,” JJ cut in, edging towards the door. “Don’t want another detention.”

He passed through the common room and out into the hallway, not stopping to see if Kiara’s prying gaze was waiting on him. His pace didn’t slow until he reached the gargoyle statue on the third floor marking the entrance to the headmistress’s office.

McGonagall was waiting on him in a cascade of emerald robes. “You’re late.”

“My bad. Almost got busted.”

Her lips thinned. “If you’d like to tell Routledge and Heyward—“

“No,” JJ said, quickly. Regardless of whether or not he trusted them to keep his secret (He did), he didn’t want to deal with it. He also didn’t want to thrust any of his baggage on them, to force them to have something to worry about. He was fine.

Regardless, JJ didn’t want to know how his classmates as a whole would react if they found out what he was. Many of them already cast him knowing looks because of the ratty, secondhand robes the school had to use a scholarship fund to even allow him to purchase. He knew how most wizards looked at his kind. Dirt under their shoe at the best of times, and an unfeeling monster out to kill them at the worst of times.

“Very well.” She looked him up and down, a concerned aura about her that he’d only ever witnessed on full moons. Some of his classmates would never believe that their strict headmistress had a softer side. “Let’s get you to the Shrieking Shack, then.”

* * *

If he felt like he was dangling over the edge of a cliff the day of a full moon, the day after, he felt like he was wading through sludge. Like he’d been broken and then glued back together, piece by ragged, bloody piece.

As she usually did, Madam Pomfrey collected him at dawn, forcing several potions down his throat and shoving some toast in his hand. “Don’t drink those on an empty stomach,” she barked.

It wasn’t quite time for breakfast yet, so he left the hospital wing in as much of a hurry as he could. For the past two full moons, he’d managed to sneak back into the dormitory before the other two boys were awake and pretend his excuse from the day before was worth skiving off class for.

 _I’m too tired from Filch breathing down my throat all night,_ would be his excuse of the day.

He was tired. Exhausted, in fact. He couldn’t wait to collapse into his bed, and thoughts of it made the effort of sneaking through the common room totally worth it.

Years of walking on the non-creaky floorboards at his house to avoid waking his father had made him an expert at stealth. Sneaking was one of the very few things he was good at, and he planned to use it to the fullest extent possible.

JJ pulled the door to the first year boys’ dormitory closed, inching his fingers off it slowly so that it didn’t creak and accidentally alert John B and Pope to his arrival.

Only there they were, both sitting up in their beds, arms crossed. JJ nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Told you,” Pope said, his voice coming out the mumble of someone who’d just pulled his first all-nighter. He looked almost as bad as JJ felt.

John B was glaring at him. “Detention? What gives, dude?”

JJ fought the urge to bite at his nails. He’d prepared for this. “Chill. I thought I’d have a look around the castle, see if I could find the kitchens. I was already out so late and no one was patrolling.”

Pope glanced at John B, like his confidence was waning, but John B didn’t budge. His eyes narrowed. It occurred to JJ that maybe he’d let him witness one too many lies he’d told, because he looked like he wasn’t buying it.

“You’re _lying_. To us.”

“Conspiracy theorist isn’t a good look on you, bro.”

“Lying to your best friends isn’t a good look on you!”

JJ was exhausted to the core of his bones. For once, he didn’t feel up to this quick-tongued back and forth that he was normally so good at. Both the boys were staring at him, accusing, and his web of lies was collapsing around him.

John B and Pope exchanged another glance. “Are you in trouble, man? Because you can tell us,” Pope urged.

“No more than—“ JJ cut himself off, a tremble rocking his body. He steadied himself on his bedpost, and John B jumped to his feet.

“Dude,” John B said, hovering near JJ. “What was that? Are you okay?”

JJ waved him away, using his grip on his bed to maneuver himself onto the mattress. He fell onto it with a grateful _plop_. “Fine.”

“Okay, that is so not fine,” Pope snipped. His eyes were wide, and he was practically bouncing back and forth on the edge of his four-poster. It was altogether un-Pope-like.

“Shut up Pope—“

“I will when—“

“Both of you shut up,” John B ordered. He peered at JJ. “Did you take something? What’s going on?”

There was real worry on his friend’s face. His eyebrows were all scrunched up, and his brunette curls were standing on end from where he’d clearly skipped a shower the night before. A part of JJ deflated.

There was no way he could keep this to himself for seven years. This was only month three of many, and already they looked ready to stage an intervention. The last thing he needed was for them to bring other peers into it (Like Merlin forbid, Kiara) if their concern grew.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“Sure, man,” Pope said, and John B was quick to agree. John B sucked at keeping secrets, was like the worst secret keeper imaginable, but JJ genuinely trusted him not to tell anyone. Whether or not they’d ever want to speak to him again was up for debate.

“Look, guys, I’m…” JJ swallowed, hands balling into the fold of his pants. “I’m a werewolf. McGonagall comes to get me every full moon so I can get off school grounds to transform.”

A snort of laughter erupted from John B, like maybe he thought JJ was joking. He quieted gradually, taking in JJ’s stony expression.

“Holy shit,” John B said. JJ winced, but to his surprise, he detected no sign of disgust on his friend’s freckled face. He looked open and curious, and one side of his mouth was pulled back like he was starting to smile. “Werewolves are real. That’s kind of badass, right?”

It hit JJ that John B wasn’t reacting the right way, the normal way, because his parents were muggles. He had no idea what a werewolf was, much less how wizarding society viewed them. As animals that would be better off put down, as far as many people were concerned.

“No, it’s not, no,” he argued. Having his own father rip into him for being born wasn’t badass. Feeling like he was being ripped apart from the inside out, once per month, wasn’t badass. Living in constant fear that he would slip up and hurt someone, _kill_ someone, certainly wasn’t.

JJ felt his hands shaking with effort to keep himself composed. John B frowned, glancing over at Pope, and…. Pope.

He’d grown very quiet, a hand to his mouth. John B looked back and forth between them. “Well, why don’t you tell us what it’s like then? You’re still the same JJ.”

“You sure about that?” JJ muttered.

John B nudged Pope. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Pope squeaked, after a pregnant pause. He shuffled, and JJ wondered if he was wishing he could bolt. He didn’t blame him. He’d seen that look, heard about it. People like him could trust no one, because no one could truly trust them. “It’s just, why weren’t we told about this? Shouldn’t McGonagall have told our parents?”

He left the rest unfinished, but JJ heard it, loud and clear. McGonagall should’ve told their parents that their children would be sharing a dorm with a monster, but they were putting it on a leash so they really hoped it would be okay with them.

“Probably so everyone won’t have nightmares that I’ll come and kill them in their sleep, don’t you think?” JJ muttered. More like, _probably so everyone wouldn’t look at me like you are right now_.

“We’d never think that,” John B argued. He didn’t seem to be catching on to the fact that Pope wasn’t super quick to back him up, that he was instead inching towards the door, like he couldn’t wait for an excuse to leave the room. But JJ did.

Well. Maybe John B at least was idiotic enough to remain his friend, and JJ was probably selfish enough to let him.

* * *

Kiara spotted JJ’s blond head at breakfast on Friday almost immediately. He was slumped several seats over from where their group normally gathered, inhaling his eggs like his life depended on it. It very well might have, considering she hadn’t seen him at one meal or class the day before.

Oddly enough, John B and Pope hadn’t joined him in the seat move. Pope appeared determined not to look up from his plate, and John B was throwing frustrated glances down the table at JJ.

Kiara’s first instinct was to head for John B, but she changed course at the last second and went for JJ instead.

Whether or not he liked her, she wanted him to like her, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that he was growing on her a bit like a fungus. It had been weird and quiet yesterday without him, and on top of that, Pope had been withdrawn. It would come as a relief to hear the absurd things that came out of JJ’s mouth again.

“Morning,” Kiara said, and he gave a little jolt at the sound of her voice, like he hadn’t been expecting anyone to speak to him. She dropped into the seat across from him.

He still looked a little rough around the edges, she noticed. His perpetually messy blond hair seemed even more discombobulated than usual, and the dark blotches that had lingered under his eyes for the past couple days hadn’t quite faded.

JJ muttered something to her that may or may not have been a greeting in return. She squinted at him. “I didn’t see you yesterday. Guess I was right about you being sick, huh?”

“You just never stop, do you?” he said, and it seemed more than his usual general uneasiness about her presence. If anything, he’d tolerated her better lately, but this was bitter. Something else was up.

Kiara dragged her gaze down the Gryffindor table towards John B and Pope. “Alright, seriously? What’s going on? You three have a lover’s spat or something?”

JJ scowled. “No. None of your business.”

His hands were bunched into fists, and it suddenly occurred to Kiara that her questioning was backing him into a corner. It was clear that he did not like being cornered.

She changed tactics, making a mental note to harp on John B later for answers. “Do you need to borrow my notes from yesterday?”

A flash of his blue stare on hers, and his grip on his fork relaxed. “Kiara,” he scolded. “Funny that you think I ever have notes.”

“It won’t be funny when you repeat first year.”

Kiara tilted her head, playfully. JJ watched her, and he didn’t smile, exactly, but something about him lightened up. He glanced down the table, towards the other boys, and then back to Kiara again. She wondered whether he was working out why he was the one she’d chosen to sit with.

Well, good luck to him at figuring it out, but she wasn’t entirely sure, either

* * *

JJ avoided the boys for a week. John B wasn’t taking it well. He still tried to trail after JJ at the end of class, to partner with him in Potions.

And it wasn’t something Pope had said, but what he didn’t say, and JJ wasn’t planning on sticking around to listen to it when he finally got around to it. He figured he’d just make things easier for him, and cut himself out of their lives for them. John B would be better off with a friend like Pope anyway.

It still really, really sucked, though.

He was laid back on his bed on a rainy afternoon, tossing a quaffle (One he’d knicked from the Quidditch shed) towards the ceiling and catching it over and over again. Because that was what he did now apparently, instead of running around planning the greatest pranks their eleven-year-old brains could comprehend.

The dormitory door swung open, and JJ looked over on reflex, hardly catching the ball before it bounced right on his nose.

It was John B, with Pope drifting along behind him, eyes on the carpet. Something ugly curled in JJ’s stomach.

“What?” he ground out, as they hovered obnoxiously in the doorway.

“Hello, JJ.” John B cleared his throat, giving Pope a nudge with his elbow. Pope blinked frantically. “Pope has something to say to you.”

“Not interested.” He really wasn’t. Like, seriously.

“No, I have to say it.” Pope stepped forward, and JJ threw up his mental walls like armor. They trembled, a blockade made of glass. To his surprise, Pope said, “I’m sorry I acted like that.”

The wall shattered. JJ blinked, fixating on the stitches in his comforter. “No, I get it.”

“ _No_ ,” Pope implored. “I am. It doesn’t change our friendship, that you’re a—“

“Werewolf?” JJ suggested, dully.

“Your _lycanthropy_.” Pope took a breath. “I looked through some books in the library, and it’s really a mess how people treat you, man. You’re still you.”

“Not without being drugged up I’m not.” JJ hadn’t really prepared for this. He’d had defenses ready, even joking threats for anyone who found out his secret and came after him, but not for someone trying to be there for him.

“You’re stuck with us,” John B announced. “Sorry, not sorry.”

JJ took them in. Pope, looking earnest and ashamed. John B’s steady, determined gaze; his best friend since he’d first stepped foot into Hogwarts. He didn’t really understand the stigma that came with what JJ was, but JJ felt himself becoming disgustingly choked up.

“Whatever. As long as you promise to end this lame pity party right now, because it really sucks.”

“Deal.” John B grinned. “No pity parties here. Now get up! I think I have an idea to slip some dung bombs into Topper’s bags.”

* * *

John B and Pope were good on their word. For some reason that JJ couldn’t fully comprehend, they stuck around, like they still wanted to be his friend.

Pope asked lots of questions, many of which JJ didn’t know the answers to himself. In the cases that he didn’t, Pope would run to the library and come back with lists of facts and dates that really didn’t mean a whole lot to JJ when his main concern was not killing anyone that month. It was Pope’s way of making up for his initial reaction, though, so JJ tried to keep his commentary to himself.

John B in particular continued taking it in stride. He quizzed JJ on the paths they took to get him out of the school, and JJ was thrilled to finally share the fact that he knew a secret path all the way into Hogsmeade.

John B even started referring to JJ’s condition as his cousin Zippo in company. “Hey JJ, was it this weekend that you’re hearing from your cousin Zippo?” followed by incessant laughter, and more often than not, scrutinizing looks and eye rolls from Kiara, who still wasn’t part of the inside joke. Although JJ had grown used to her presence, he didn’t plan for her to ever be a part of it.

Just the idea of her knowing made his skin crawl, not because she’d run screaming, but the opposite.

He’d seen the fire in her eyes when relocation of centaur populations came up in class, had heard her rants when someone had a snide comment about their house elf. She’d pity him if she knew, make him some sort of personal charity project, and he really wasn’t going to put up with it.

JJ liked it much better when she was reining in her scowls at him during Herbology, thank you very much.

Christmas Holidays were upon them before he knew it, and all of JJ’s friends (Yes, he even included Kiara in that list now, reluctantly) were packing up to go home. Unlike him, they had actual families that loved them, something that was easy to forget while they were away at school.

John B hovered with his packed bags near the dormitory door. “JJ, I’m sure my dad would be cool with you staying at my place.”

JJ cut him a look, because they’d already had this conversation. “Dude. Christmas is the full moon. I need to be here anyway.”

“I can stay here—“

“No, man. Go home and see your dad.”

John B looked at Pope, as if for assistance, but he just shrugged helplessly. He had been quiet, busy organizing his bag by color and triple checking the contents to make sure he had everything.

“I don’t want you to spend Christmas and cousin Zippo alone,” John B said. His forehead was marred into a frown.

“Trust me, I’m not upset,” JJ said, and he wasn’t. In fact, he was fairly sure it would be the best Christmas he’d had since his muggle mother found him floating his toys at the age of eight and dropped him back on his dad’s doorstep. Maybe since even before then.

What he didn’t expect was to wake up on Christmas morning and see packages nestled at the foot of his bed, even through the pounding of his morning-of-the-full-moon induced headache.

JJ’s first thought was _, I have_ presents _?_ His second was to wonder whether or not someone had delivered packages to the wrong bed.

But no, just as surely as they were there, each and every one had his name scribbled on them.

He could hardly remember the last time he’d gotten a gift. Nerf bullets and brand new footballs passed through his mind, from back when he still lived with his mother. Her gifts had dwindled over the years, and now he couldn’t even expect so much as a card.

From John B, he had a small selection of muggle candies and snacks that he couldn’t ever remember having; jolly ranchers, potato chips, and various brand chocolate bars. There was a navy sweater with “JJ” stitched onto the front from Pope’s family, and he realized with some amazement that it was homemade. The sleeves were long, soft, and warm, and alone in the privacy of the room, JJ allowed himself a moment to gather himself. It had been more than a while since he’d received something so thoughtful.

There was one remaining package, sleek and rectangular and wrapped neatly in brown paper.

_Happy Christmas! Maybe now you can keep your hands to yourself and stop pretending I don’t notice you stealing mine._

_Kiara_

Inside, there was a package of the biggest assortment of chocolate frogs he’d ever seen. White chocolate, dark chocolate, some with flavors in the middle. The writing was in French, so she’d clearly picked it out over her family holiday in France (and probably gotten a kick out of imagining him trying to guess which flavor he was trying with the language barrier).

On a scale of one to ten, JJ still didn’t know how much Kiara secretly disliked him, but he plopped a squirming frog in his mouth, regardless. He figured rich people chocolate was worth the risk of being poisoned.

* * *

Kiara knew the boys had inside jokes and secrets that she wasn’t apart of (And maybe never would be, a fact that she tried not to let sting too much), but when they started inviting her on their forbidden nightly excursions sneaking around the school, she felt like she was really one of them.

They were out on this particular night, searching for any more Hogwarts secrets they could discover. JJ and John B liked it because knowing hidden pathways and tricks helped them prank people they didn’t like and go undetected when they were otherwise making trouble, and Pope liked it because the process of unlocking something new got him giddier than she’d ever see him.

For Kiara, it was a healthy mixture of both, though she liked to make out like she was siding with Pope.

They were on the first floor, unsuccessfully searching for doorways behind portraits when things took a turn for the worst.

A light flickered in the corner of Kiara’s vision, and then JJ was yelling, “Guys, guys. Code red!”

They scattered. Pope and John B headed one way, towards the grand staircase, but Kiara found herself hot on JJ’s heels in the opposite direction. There were smaller, more discreet ways back up to Gryffindor tower that Kiara calculated left them at less risk for being caught, and apparently JJ had the same idea.

They darted down two hallways, and Kiara’s breathing was heavy in her ears. Dread seized her when they reached the tapestry corridor and voices were still echoing behind them. They’d been followed.

“Screw this,” Kiara muttered, spinning on her heel and heading for a big, oval tapestry of a sleeping gray dragon. She yanked on the edge, revealing a narrow space definitely big enough for two first years. They’d been disappointed when they’d discovered an entrance to nowhere just after Christmas, but right now, it was looking like their best bet.

“JJ,” she hissed, lunging for the back of his robes and missing. “Over here.”

Luckily, he still heard her. He scrambled in the alcove behind her, and she just caught the dragon peeling open its eye before the tapestry fluttered back into place, locking them in the pitch black, stuffy air.

They were crowded more closely together than they’d normally stand in the space, but they still had room to put several inches between them. She imagined JJ was glaring even though she couldn’t see him. Panting, he complained, “Doesn’t Filch ever sleep? It’s just sad at this poi—“

A rustling came from outside, and Kiara smacked her hand over his mouth. His breathing stilled. “ _Shh_.”

“I know I heard them go this way,” someone said, and she felt JJ tense under her grasp.

They’d recognize that voice almost anywhere. Rafe Cameron was only in second year, but easily one of the most obnoxious, arrogant students in the school. Naturally, he’d become a target of whatever cheap prank products the boys could get their hands on whenever possible (or whenever JJ could swipe them from someone else and use them for his own benefit).

Unfortunately, Kiara had known the Camerons for years. They came from a pureblood, Slytherin dynasty, and her mother always acted like she’d won the lottery when they got invited to one of their dinner parties.

They had a daughter in first year as well, Sarah Cameron. Kiara didn’t think much of either of them, but Rafe was definitely the worse of two evils, and he was right outside.

“Maybe we should go back another way.” There were some mutters of agreement. From what Kiara could decipher, it sounded like maybe three people, total. If they were found, they’d be totally outnumbered.

“I’ll teach those stupid pogues to put dung bombs in my bags,” Rafe said. JJ shifted next to her, like he was trying not to laugh, and Kiara resisted the urge to pinch his arm. The dung bombs had been his idea, but he’d dared John B to do it. Unfortunately, unlike JJ, John B wasn’t stealthy enough to go unnoticed by Rafe.

“He _is_ a walking piece of shit, so it’s what he deserves,” JJ whispered.

“Idiot,” Kiara muttered back.

“I say we head them off on the seventh floor. The Gryffindors are always coming from up there.”

JJ moved again next to her, and Kiara grabbed his arm instinctively. She didn’t doubt at all that he was debating jumping out at Rafe, because he was hotheaded and rash and he’s set himself on fire if it meant keeping his friends safe.

She wasn’t prepared to set herself on fire with him, though. Set Rafe on fire? Maybe.

Rafe’s voice was getting farther away, and JJ was restless as Kiara began digging through her small knapsack. “He’s gonna catch John B,” JJ said.

Kiara’s hands latched onto what she as looking for. A small but still highly effective whiz-bang, one she’d been saving for a special occasion. Her parents didn’t realize she’d snuck any back to school. “We’ll see about that.”

She reached for her wand. A steadying breath slipped through her lips, and she balanced it against the whiz-bang.

“Run for the hidden staircase.”

“Wh—“

“You’ll know when,” Kiara cut him off. She whipped her wand, and a trail of blue flames cascaded out, right onto the whiz-bang. She threw it into the corridor, hands flying to her ears.

 _BANG. BANG BANG BANG_.

The Slytherins screamed, and the next thing Kiara knew, JJ had a fistful of her robes, dragging her up winding stair after winding stair. The whiz-bang would be attracting every authority figure in the castle and it really wasn’t funny but it was, and their laughter was echoing off the stone, only a few notes quieter than the shouts of the Slytherins.

“Custard Tart.” JJ’s voice was breathless, but the Fat Lady swung open regardless, frowning at them. He gave her a hand up into the hole, something he’d never done before. Her smile stretched wider.

John B and Pope descended upon them at once in the common room.

“Dude, what was that—“

“I thought the castle was coming down. I actually thought it was coming down.”

Their laughter was still struggling to die on their lips, and the other two boys were looking between them with awe and maybe a little horror. Kiara managed to sober first. “It wasn’t Filch. Rafe Cameron and a bunch of Slytherins were trying to get revenge or something macho bull like that.”

“Kie scared them off with a firework. A freaking firework, guys,” JJ added, and delight was dancing in his ocean eyes. _Kie_. No one had ever called her that, but she wanted to hear it again. And again.

Her heart was warm, and in the low light of the Gryffidor common room, she thought maybe she could really be one of them, after all.


	2. second year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have opted to keep their slang very heavily American in this fic because otherwise they just sound ooc to me and I'M SORRY.   
> Also I am so sorry about the enormous wait between these two chapters. This was the year I was the least excited to write, because I found it a bit of an awkward gap year.

JJ’s body was a wasteland, a myriad of blood and bruises.

He didn’t remember much past his dad discovering his stash of Wolfsbane Potion, how he’d descended into a fury before it had dawned on him how expensive the vial in his hands was. “That’s my boy,” he’d raved, stepping past his cowering blond son and disappearing off to Knockturn Alley to sell JJ’s saving grace for a few galleons. Always a few galleons.

Luke didn’t believe in the Wolfsbane. He thrived on unleashing his monstrous side on full moons, on running wild and leaving innocent people at risk for ravaging. When he came home with a particularly nasty lilt to his lips, JJ knew he’d bitten someone.

Still, Luke would never pass up an opportunity to snatch some spare coins off the many werewolves that were desperate for the rare and expensive potion.

JJ had almost descended into a panic at the absence of his potions. He was hooked, absolutely dependent, and he hardly managed to slam his ancient, ratty dresser in front of his window with his shaking hands before the full moon arrived. Being at Hogwarts with a steady supply of Wolfsbane had left him soft and unprepared for the brutality of his transformation without it.

He woke, days or hours later, on the floor. Blood was dried down his chest from where he’d clawed at it, mind wild and ravenous with nothing to rip into but himself. His comforter was shredded, and the picture Kiara had snapped of him and the boys on the Hogwarts Express was unrecognizable from where he’d ripped it off his wall. Everything ached. His claws were no one’s friend, not even his own.

JJ managed to stumble to the bathroom, where he cleaned the worst of the wounds as best he could. One of them was particularly deep, and he was forced to rip the ends of last year’s school robes for a makeshift bandage. He’d outgrown them anyway, his ankles poking out from underneath.

He longed for Madam Pomfrey’s wand, the gentle caress of her healing spells. It was such shit that he would get expelled for doing magic outside of school as an underage wizard, so he couldn’t do it himself. Wounds from werewolf claws were hard to heal at the best of times, and without magic, some of these would certainly scar.

After the incident with the potions, JJ had tucked his dragon heartstring wand away under the loose floorboard in his room. He didn’t want to risk Luke flying into a rage and snapping it, because he doubted scholarships for students in need covered a second one.

Merlin, he’d give anything to be back at Hogwarts. To blow off a homework assignment with John B, to hear Pope rambling on about something he didn’t give a shit about, to catch Kiara’s reluctant smile at an inappropriate joke he made.

It didn’t help that Luke went off the handle every time an owl showed up. They didn’t need wizards snooping around, trying to put them on fucking registries, he’d say, over and over again. JJ recognized Pope’s pathetic, old screech owl on more than one occasion, and once or twice, a sleek eagle owl showed up. She was regal and refined, and way too expensive to be anyone but Kiara’s, even though he kind of couldn’t believe she was writing him.

He never got to read any of them, though, because Luke chased them off and chased them off until they finally stopped coming.

JJ tried to explain that they were letters from his friends, but Luke had sneered and said, “You don’t have _friends_. Who would want to hang around you, you pussy ass piece of shit?”

The more Luke warded off his letters, the farther away the warmth of his friends’ laughter was and the more his father’s idle comments rang true.

* * *

Kiara loved her parents, but the day they delivered her back to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, she was bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet.

She knew they cared a lot about her, but she also knew she hadn’t turned out to be the prim and proper daughter her mother had been hoping for. Even though Anna herself had bucked family tradition and married a relatively poor halfblood, she still couldn’t comprehend how Kiara would rather be on her hands and knees, plucking gnomes out of their garden alongside their house elf than going to fancy dinner parties.

“Oh, look, Kiara. There’s Sarah,” Anna said.

The Camerons were stretched out in front of the Hogwarts Express, the picture of a perfect family portrait. Ward stood with an arm wrapped around his brand new wife, with her sleek blonde hair and intricate robes. She looked like she was hardly out of Hogwarts herself, and Sarah’s mother was nowhere in sight.

“Yeah.” Kiara eyed the other girl unenthusiastically. Sarah had a sour look on her face that day, probably due to the presence of the new woman in Ward’s life, and Kiara was reminded of all the reasons she knew she and Sarah Cameron would never click no matter how many times Anna tried to push an interest in a friendship from Kiara’s end.

Rafe Cameron didn’t appear bothered. She noticed his hair was slicked back with some slimy product, which was new, just like the sleek broom he was flashing in his hand for anyone who would look over to see. The youngest Cameron sister, a girl with frizzy dark hair who hadn’t started at Hogwarts yet, was watching him with shiny eyes.

“Kie! Kie, over here!”

She perked back up at the sound of the familiar voice. She spotted John B in the crowd, curly head bouncing as he waved his hand in the air to be visible over the towering seventh years.

Kiara gave a rushed goodbye to her parents, brushing off their not-so-subtle hints about wanting to meet her friends with a promise that she’d introduce them later. She knew her mom would have a comment about their ratty robes and unkempt hair and she really didn’t feel like listening to it, let alone giving JJ more ammo about her being a spoiled rich girl.

Her tortoiseshell cat Lyra meowed in her carrier as Kiara drug her trunk across the platform to throw her arms around John B’s neck. She met a pair of unimpressed blue eyes over his shoulder, and her grin fell off her face.

“Should we be offended, or…?” JJ’s brows rose, and she couldn’t help but be reminded of how both letters she’d sent him over the summer had been returned, unopened. He inclined his head meaningfully at her and John B.

She’d written little notes back and forth with John B at least weekly, even though he lived in a muggle neighborhood with no owl of his own. Pope had written her several longer, more rambly ones that she’d enjoyed reading before bedtime.

“Probably,” Pope agreed. “Definitely.”

Kiara rolled her eyes, pulling back from the hug to look John B up and down. His warm smile was the same as it had been two months ago, but it was like someone had taken her best friend and stretched him upwards. He’d gained at least three inches in height and lost weight, if anything. 

“Can’t really blame her, guys, can we?” John B chided.

She turned her attention to the two other boys. Pope looked much the same, still small and a bit scrawnier than the others. She nudged him affectionately, then proceeded to make a face at JJ over his shoulder. He returned it with less enthusiasm than he normally would have.

Their reunion was interrupted by the whistle of the train’s horn. John B yanked at his trolley. “Shit, guys, it’s time to go!”

“Dude, language. There are parents here everywhere,” Pope hissed, scurrying after him. Kiara and JJ trailed behind a bit as they boarded the train and began the odious task of attempting to find an empty compartment. Like it had some will of its own, Kiara’s gaze kept sneaking to the boy beside her.

He had grown taller too, but he also looked a little thinner than he should be through his cheeks. If her eyes weren’t deceiving her, he was a little paler, too, and his lip was split like it had been recently busted.

Pushing aside the fact that she was still a little bit offended that he’d ignored her letters, she nodded towards him. “So, how’d you get that?”  
  


“What?” JJ blinked down at her, like he’d zoned out. His eyes flitted away before he answered. “Oh. Got into a fight with a muggle dude. He had it coming.”  
  


“Stupid.” Kiara frowned, thinking. She didn’t know a whole lot about JJ’s family. He was a very private person regarding certain topics, but she was fairly certain his father was a wizard and his mother was a muggle. “Why didn’t your dad heal it up for you?”

JJ snorted. After a brief pause, he shrugged a shoulder, saying, “Said if I was gonna start fights with muggles I could heal like one.

Kiara couldn’t help but think he was a little too smooth, a little too casual. She didn’t know if she really believed him, but she’d already gathered the year before that JJ didn’t have the best relationship with his dad. She didn’t miss how he stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, how he never seemed to get any letters in the mornings at breakfast like the rest of them. He probably just didn’t really want to talk about his home life, especially with her.

She wanted to say, _That sucks, JJ_ , but judging by the forced upturn of his mouth, she didn’t think he’d appreciate it. She didn’t like it, so she said, “Hey, good thing you’re back with Madam Pomfrey, who has no choice but to help you when you’re a moron.”

He stopped walking down the corridor, then started, then stopped again, forcing her to pause behind him. There was a line of students following her, bursting to get through and jostling her trunk. Kiara scowled at him. “JJ.”

“What was that?” JJ asked innocently, but the glint had returned to his eye. Mission accomplished.

They caught up to the other boys, who had somehow commandeered an empty compartment for themselves. JJ plopped down next to John B, and Kiara slid next to Pope, Lyra’s container between them. She popped it open, and the tortoiseshell sauntered out, tail flicking in annoyance even as she propped herself in Kiara’s lap.

JJ reached out a hand towards her. “Hey there, kitty kitty.”

Lyra hissed, ears pressed flat to her head. She looked seconds away from swiping at JJ’s outstretched fingers, and for once in his life, he wisely pulled them back.

“Still hates you,” Pope said.

“She’s a smart cat,” Kiara added, kicking at JJ’s shins across the way.

Lyra absolutely adored John B; she would curl up in his lap and accept cuddles for hours. One peep from JJ, however, and her fur was bristled on end, her eyes narrowed into slits. Kiara still strongly suspected that he’d done something to the cat behind her back, but it was an accusation he always resolutely denied when she brought it up.

John B burst out into sniggers, trying and failing to cover his mouth with his hand, and JJ turned a glare on him. Pope ran a palm over his face, muttering. Kiara glanced back and forth between them, gathering the distinct impression that she was missing the butt of some joke.

It was a feeling she got a lot around the boys, which she had to admit really stung.

Pope forced the conversation to his Dad’s new building remodel, and JJ sunk into his seat, the set of his shoulders relaxing. Heyward owned a secondhand school supply store on Diagon Alley, which Kiara was ashamed to acknowledge her mom had never let her shop at. It was brand-new or nothing, even if it would’ve been just as good at Heyward’s place.

The Honeydukes Express trolley came by about an hour into their trip. John B and JJ shook their heads right away, and Pope dug in his pockets to struggle out a few stray coins. “Um. How much is a liquorice wand again?”

Kiara watched with a pit in her stomach. She grabbed a few galleons out of her pockets that her parents had sent on her for spending money, just in case she needed it. “I’ll take a few chocolate frogs, and the liquorice wand. Some Bertie Bott’s, too.”

“Kie, you don’t have to-“

“No big deal,” she said over John B, then internally cringed at her choice of wording. It sounded a lot like, _no big deal when you’re rich_.

Kiara thanked the witch when she handed over the sweets, then turned to distribute the candies to the boys. A chocolate frog for her, John B, and JJ, and the horrible liquorice for Pope.

“Thank you,” Pope muttered, accepting the candy gratefully.

John B stared down at the unopened chocolate frog in his palm. “Kie, you really didn’t have to.”

“Just eat it,” Kiara insisted. She still got a little burst of happiness every time one of them called her Kie. JJ had started it last term, and gradually the other two had picked up on it. It made her feel like they were a part of something together, and she loved it. 

Across from her, JJ was already ripping into his chocolate. “Seriously. At least it’s been purchased legally. You should consider that,” he said, and Kiara had to agree with him. JJ picked up little things like candy and quills all the time when one of them wasn’t there to pry it out of his fingers, and she didn’t know how much of it was a genuine compulsion and what was just him trying to annoy them. “Huh. Bl-something Stalk.”

JJ was peering down at his chocolate frog card, which Kiara could see somehow already had a smear of chocolate in the corner from his fingers.

Pope’s head shot up, his candy wand hanging out of his mouth. “Blenheim Stalk? I don’t have him!”

“All yours.”

Kiara watched her boys, fondness creeping over within her. Because she thought of them as hers, regardless of whether she’d ever call them that to their face (She wouldn’t).

She peeled open her Every Flavor Beans, which she’d purchased with little intention to eat herself. She shifted through them until her attention landed on a suspicious looking one that rather reminded her of boogers. “Hey, JJ, I dare you to try this.”

He never turned down a dare.

* * *

As the year kicked off, Kiara accepted more than ever that mischief was a way of life for the boys, and since they were her life at school, it was also hers.

Pope concocted the best plans, plotted the most accurate times to get someone without getting got in return and perfected the spells they would use. As long as he didn’t get detentions that his parents would be written home about, he had an extra tweak to his lips when they pulled a big one over on some unsuspecting Slytherin.

John B and JJ, naturally, were the ones actually carrying out most of the pranks. John B had a surprising talent for strange spell work, and JJ did the boldest, dumbest things, so together they made sure things got done.

Kiara was the lookout. The one in charge of diverting the attention of Professors or other students. If she smiled really big, they tended to believe anything she said, because apparently people thought she looked more innocent than the boys.

Idiots.

Topper Thornton was a frequent and favored victim. Not only was he in their year and easily accessible, but he was also an arrogant asshat who thought everyone kissed the ground he walked on.

He was bearing the brunt of one of their pranks in potions on Wednesday morning, having suddenly sprouted snake scales all across his face during the transition from breakfast in the Great Hall to Potions in the dungeons. It was a spell JJ had picked out personally, so when he and John B practiced enough on one another to deem themselves efficient in the wand work, he’d had the pleasure of casting it.

“Stupid Pogues did this,” Topper was yelling at Slughorn, and half the class erupted into sniggers. He hadn’t noticed the scales until Sarah Cameron had shrieked away from him when he sidled up next to her just outside the classroom. Needless to say, he hadn’t been pleased.

“Now, Mr. Thornton, please settle down and I’ll have someone escort you to the hospital wing,” Slughorn tried to appease, but his voice was nearly drowned out by the sniggering Gryffindors. Even a few Slytherins were hiding amused looks, Sarah Cameron among them. Kiara thought it was a miracle Slughorn even knew Topper's name, but then again, he did hail from one of Witch Weekly's most wealthy families. 

JJ twirled his wand between his fingers, smirking.

“JJ,” Pope whisper-yelled. “You’re practically writing ‘guilty’ on your forehead. Do you want to lose points?”

The four of them had claimed the table in the back corner for themselves; JJ and John B at one station, and Kiara and Pope at the other. It was only fair, Pope decreed, that the two biggest slackers among them have to carry their own marks. Although Pope was the brain of the group, Kiara was finding herself to have a surprising affinity for the subject, especially in practical application. It was a bit like cooking, actually, which she had started learning as soon as she could grasp it. 

“I mean, they do have to prove it,” Kiara said, perfectly practiced. She had to sit in between Pope and JJ as a buffer, because Pope got testy when JJ leered over at what he was doing with his ingredients. “JJ was with me the whole time. I saw him.”

“And I was back in the common room getting my book,” John B added.

JJ grinned. “See Pope? Nothing to worry about.”

They were on the second week of term, now, and things with JJ had been… normal, she guessed. Kiara had thought they were on good terms at the end of last year, but his stint with the letters had left her uncertain. He sometimes grew moody and distant, but then he flashed her a devious smile when they partnered up to commit something mischievous. She should probably just ask him.

“Guys,” John B hissed, and all three of them turned in his direction. Slughorn was still trying and failing to hush the classroom from the display earlier, so basically they had free reign to chat.

He nodded towards the board, eyes glinting with glee. “Swelling Solution” was written on the board in Slughorn’s blocky writing, with a smaller list of ingredients outlined underneath.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I for one would like to see Rafe Cameron’s head in actual size,” JJ suggested.

She’d never seen them so interested in counting out bat spleens unless they were planning to throw them at someone.

* * *

John B and Pope finding out about him was the best disaster that had ever happened to JJ. Sneaking out of the school to transform into a bloodthirsty monster turned out to be a million times easier when you had two dorm mates helping you cover your ass.

Luckily, his first transformation of the year fell on a Friday night, so he wasn’t forced to miss any classes. What he hadn’t foreseen, however, was how difficult it would be to keep Kiara from sniffing around.

She kept hinting that they should go down to the pitch and fly a couple laps before the weather got too cold. Now that they were allowed it in second year, she’d brought her broom with her, and he’d been badgering her since the start of term for a spin on it. Anything would have to be a dream compared to the shitty school brooms, and JJ was already rather talented on those alone. He wanted to see what he could do on a real one, and of course, Kiara’s family had top of the line even though she didn’t play Quidditch.

As it turned out, he spent Saturday in the hospital wing, blearily wondering how the hell he was going to keep her off his back once she’d realized he had totally blown her off. She actually _liked_ him, and he liked her, so giving her the brush off sucked worse than he’d prepared for.

She pounced on him immediately at breakfast on Sunday. “JJ! You look like shit.”

Pope’s forkful of eggs paused halfway to his mouth, and John B chugged a gulp of orange juice. JJ forced himself to chew the rest of the food in his mouth and swallow slowly. “Oh, thank you.”

“Do you feel better?” Kiara prodded, and something about her concern for him made his stomach ache. The boys had told her he was up in dorm, puking his guts out, and that she probably shouldn’t disturb him in case it was contagious. And he did feel like shit, but it was nothing compared to what he'd dealt with over the summer.

“Fine,” he grunted, but she was still frowning. His bones still ached and he didn’t need her looking at him like that, so he snapped, “What? Don’t have a mom at home and don’t need one here.”

Predictably, this didn’t go over well.

Kiara scowled at him. She gripped her fork so tightly her knuckles lightened, then set it down. JJ figured she probably wanted to rid herself of all temptation of stabbing him with it.

“You won’t have anyone if you don’t stop acting like that.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. Turning pointedly to look at John B and Pope in turn, she said, “See you later.”

The boys watched as Kiara stormed out.

“Shit,” JJ said.

John B flicked a piece of toast at him. “This is not the way to keep cousin Zippo under wraps, JJ.”

“You’re dead,” Pope added, helpfully.

“In the dog house?” John B suggested, but he was the only one who laughed.

“Yeah, screw both of you. Seriously.”

JJ gave Kiara space for exactly twelve hours. He debated that maybe he was better off if he just let her hate him, but he quickly cast that thought aside. Inconvenient or not, he really enjoyed her company.

He found her stretched out on one of the plush couches in the Gryffindor common room that evening, a book in her hands and the fire casting a pleasant warmth onto her skin. It was like she was broadcasting, _Hey, look, dumbass. I’m productive without you around_.

JJ dropped onto the couch, pulling her socked feet into his lap like this was normal, affectionate behavior for them. He was fairly sure it was the first time he had really touched her aside from little brushes on the shoulder here and there to maneuver. Kiara looked at him like she was hoping to blast him to bits with her eyes.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked.

John B and Pope were not so subtly watching from across the room, necks craned and homework completely abandoned. JJ wondered if he could flip them off without her noticing.

She flipped a page with force. “In a good mood now?”

“Mhmm,” JJ said. He adjusted her feet so his hands were wrapped around her ankles, and her gaze followed his actions. He wondered if she was imagining kicking him. “So. Weather’s supposed to be good tomorrow.”

“Yeah. And?”

“Your jacked out broom. Duh.”

“Okay. Seriously, what the _hell_ is your problem?” Kiara demanded. She slammed her book closed, all pretenses of reading abandoned, and JJ suddenly got the feeling that whatever this was had been building for longer than just a day.

“I’m an asshole,” he said, because okay, he had been. She probably felt like he was totally hot and cold on her.

Kiara’s fierce expression faltered, for a fraction of a second, but then it was thrown up again. “Yeah. Glad that’s cleared up.”

JJ laughed, and gave a little nod. “So. We good?”

She chewed her lip, and he got the sense that she was working up to something. This was unusual in of itself, because usually Kiara didn’t pull many punches when it came to speaking her mind.

“Are _you_ good?” she finally asked. A jolt of fear went through him, and then confusion when she added, “With me?”

JJ stared at her. Her eyebrows were wrinkled up, like she was really concerned, but she couldn’t hold his gaze for very long. He tried to work out a genuine answer.

“Uh, yeah, Kie. In case you missed it, I don’t really talk to people I can’t stand.”

“I wrote you letters this summer. Two.”

“Shit.” He moved one hand off of her leg to run his fingers through his hair, trying to work out the best way to get around explaining to her that his father was psychotic and wouldn’t let him have contact with the outside world. _Oh, and also, we’re both werewolves! At least I haven’t killed you yet_. “I was kind of… like, grounded. I didn’t get them.”

“All summer?”

“Have you met me?”

“Oh,” was all she said. JJ couldn’t tell if she really bought it or not, but a few minutes later she was nudging his midsection with her feet. “Tomorrow after Charms we could go to the pitch.”

“Or,” JJ began, chin lifted into the air. “We could see about prying that window open at the end of the corridor. Say around one am?”

* * *

The first few weeks of term melted into October, and Hagrid’s giant pumpkins could soon be found decorating the Great Hall and other prominent corridors. The boys liked to make jokes about them (And occasionally to compare their shapes to crude things), but Kiara found their sheer size quite awing. Plus, they signified the approach of the Halloween Feast, which had been grand even when she’d spent it without friends the year before.

Getting deeper into the school year also meant learning more and more advanced magic. There was a murmur throughout the second years; Professor Peterkin had made it known they’d be studying the disarming spell this week, which would be their first step into learning how to duel and the type of magic their entire class had been bursting to learn since they’d stepped foot in Hogwarts.

Kiara didn’t particularly condone dueling, but she grudgingly accepted that they needed to know the spells, just in case. JJ and John B, however, had been yammering about it all year. It was for this reason that she was shocked to discover Pope alone that morning at breakfast.

“Where are the boys?” she demanded.

“Uh.” Pope’s eyes were wide, like a pixie under the tip of a wizard’s wand, and Kiara was automatically suspicious. “Skipping.”

Her brow furrowed. “What? All day, or first period?”

Kiara didn’t find it odd that they were skipping, necessarily, but Defense Against the Dark Arts? Something they really hated, like Potions or Herbology, would’ve made more sense.

Defense was the one class JJ in particular seemed truly interested in. He sat up straighter, listened to Peterkin talk instead of just drumming his fingers on his desk like he was counting down the minutes. His wand work was so impressive Kiara would wager he was well on his way to becoming an excellent duelist, which probably wasn't necessarily a good thing. 

“All day. Yeah.” Pope picked at his toast, avoiding her eyes, and Kiara stared at him.

Pope wasn’t nearly as proficient of a liar as JJ. John B was probably the reining worst, but Pope in particular tended to crack under just a little pressure.

He fidgeted under her gaze, but made no move to amend his story. Kiara pursed her lips and filed the information away for later. Clearly, the other two must be up to something she wouldn’t approve of. And neither would Pope, seeing as he was here with her.

Whatever boneheaded thing they had going on, she just really hoped it wouldn’t get them expelled.

They bumped into Rafe Cameron and his gang of Slytherins on the way to Defense, and he watched them with narrowed eyes.

“Where are the other little pogues at today, huh?” He had his long, slender hawthorn wand in hand, as if this would intimidate them. The other Slytherins laughed on cue, the practiced mob that they were.

Ever since they’d snuck Dungbombs into Rafe’s bag last year (One of their more tame, early pranks), he’d kept an eye out for John B and JJ. He could never prove that they’d done anything, although an explosion of sparks between them in the hallway had once resulted in a detention for all involved. It was probably a good thing the other two weren’t around today.

Pope looked like he was about to attempt an illegal apparition away, so Kiara cut her eyes and said, “None of your business, Rafe.”

She drug Pope away, her hand latched around the sleeve of his robes.

“You better tell them to watch their backs,” Rafe yelled after them. Pope’s eyes widened, but Kiara ignored him.

“They _had_ to pick on the older kids,” Pope complained, once they were out of earshot. The crowd gathering for Defense came into view, but it was with the Ravenclaws. They got on relatively well with the Gryffindors, although many of them tended to stick up their noses at John B and JJ when they got particularly obnoxious.

“I know.” In their defense, Rafe really did suck, though. Kiara rolled her eyes. “Pogues. They really think they’re doing something by calling us that.”

* * *

“Please, just kill me now,” Kiara announced over breakfast one morning shortly before Christmas break. She was scowling down at the letter in her hands.

Normally, she and Pope would smile or fondly roll their eyes at the post they received from home, the amount of which far exceeded that of the other two boys. This was not one of those times.

“What’s up?” John B asked.

Kiara groaned, shooting a look at the Slytherin table. “We got invited to the Cameron’s New Year’s ball.

JJ exchanged a glance with John B, both of their eyebrows raised to their hairlines. Being from an outcast family (If you could even call what he had with his dad that), JJ tended to be out of the loop on the big wizard socialite events. Big whoop.

And John B, being both a muggleborn and John B, was clueless as ever.

“They have this big party every year to show their rich friends how rich they are,” Kiara ranted. “They make way more food than anyone needs, and their poor house elves probably work themselves to death, by the way.”

“Must be nice to have a house elf,” JJ muttered, and he broke into sniggers when Kiara kicked at his shins under the table.

They gathered their things to make their way to their morning Defense class, but Kiara’s eyes were still daggers. Often, they fixated on JJ, but he wasn’t sure if it was due to his house elf comment or if she just found him the most satisfying to glare at. Probably both.

“I’ll have to look at freaking Rafe Cameron all night,” she muttered, breath coming out a little short as they wound around a staircase.

JJ inched over to walk by her side, and his elbow bumped hers. “What, Kie? Greasiest hair potion doesn’t do it for you?”

Kiara snorted. “My mom would love it if it did.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” John B asked.

Kiara pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly avoiding their eyes. JJ froze. “You know.” She waggled her fingers dramatically. “ _Cameron_.”

JJ realized what she was getting at, and even Pope looked up in disgust.

“You’re saying she’d like to pawn you out to Rafe Cameron,” JJ accused.

“No, not pawn me out,” Kiara said hurriedly. “But like, if I came home dating him in a few years she’d probably throw a party. He’s just the sort of high-class snob she wastes her time with. She’d probably get a kick out of Topper, too.”

The image of Kiara, scrappy little Kie, arm in arm with Rafe Cameron at one of those fancy pureblood balls made JJ’s stomach clench uncomfortably. The thought of her arm in arm with _anyone_ made his stomach clench uncomfortably.

John B moved to Kiara’s other side to wrap her in a headlock. “She’d _love_ us.”

JJ snapped out it. His fingers yanked on the free edge of Kiara’s silky robes, a smirk playing at his lips. “Me, more,” he said, and he tried to ignore how much he hated how much of a joke this was.

Kiara shoved them both away, trying and failing to scowl through her laugh. “Like you’d get the chance.”

And before he knew it, JJ was the only second year Gryffindor left in the tower. John B and Pope, both this time, had tried to convince him to plan a trip to one of their houses for Christmas, but the full moon was falling on Christmas Eve this year, and there was simply no way.

It was amusing, for a bit, to take advantage of the lax rules and empty halls to aid in the attempt to work out more of Hogwarts’s mysteries, but getting up to mischief alone just didn’t hold up to how it felt doing it with friends. Kiara had generously left her Nimbus behind for him, so he ended up spending a large chunk of his alone time bundled up on the pitch, flying laps and trying not to scowl at the thought of the broom’s owner at her fancy pureblood ball.

He was cornered one day on the way back from a flight, his hair windswept and Kiara’s broom clutched in one hand.

“That was you?” a voice accused, when JJ’s fingers were still biting from the chill. He jolted at the sight of the hulking figure eyeballing him from down the corridor, and even after he realized it was only Sebastian Bell, the fifth year captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, it took several moments for his heart to stop racing. “Maybank, you didn’t tell me you could fly like that!”

JJ gave his best casual, cool shrug. Never mind the fact that Sebastian Bell had hardly bothered to speak two words to him in the past, unless it was to join in the appreciative laughter at some offense he’d committed against the Slytherins. “Yeah. Well.”

Sebastian trailed him down the corridor. “Why didn’t you try out for the team?”

“Don’t know. Figured you’d want older guys.”

Second years didn’t usually make house teams, but if JJ knew there was one single thing he was good at, it was flying. Athletic reflexes came naturally to him, and although he’d never been one of the lucky wizarding children getting expensive toy brooms for Christmas, he’d fallen into first year flying lessons as a total natural.

Of course, he didn’t mention that him being totally incapacitated once a month might not make him a stand up choice for the Quidditch team.

“Not when they suck ass,” Sebastian exclaimed. “You’re trying out next year, right?”

He would love to if he wasn’t a freaking werewolf, or if he could afford a half decent broom for himself. “Maybe. I don’t even have a broom, though.”

“We can get you one,” Sebastian dismissed. His arms were crossed, and JJ was amazed at the sheer size difference the three years between them made. “I’ll see you on the pitch next year, yeah?”

And suddenly the lead up to his Christmas was filled with Sebastian Bell sitting next to him at meal times, asking whether or not he’d ever played a game of Quidditch and how he thought his upper body strength was. His upper body strength was just fine, thank you very much, but it would do him no good in the hospital wing once a month.

Christmas Eve came, and he found himself even pricklier than usual regarding his transformation. Normally, he accepted that his life was a shit show, but it sucked to be reminded of all the things he was missing.

Needless to say, he didn’t even have the energy to so much as look as his gifts until late Christmas night.

Pope and John B had pinched in together and given him a lunascope. It looked to be secondhand, and some of the dials hardly squeaked by, but it brought a grin to JJ’s face.

When he opened up his gift from Kiara, he had a shocked _what the hell_ moment when he felt the spine of a book, but he couldn’t contain his grin when he read the title. “Beguiling Brooms of the 21st Century.”

Brooms weren’t an odd interest for a twelve-year-old boy to have, but JJ was discovering he really _really_ liked them. Comparing the different makes by the handles, the twigs, even the velocity for certain turns, which made him sound way too much like Pope for comfort. He liked flying them even more.

There was nothing left at the foot of his bed from any Maybanks, of course. JJ, however, decided that their silence was as good as anything they’d ever given him.

* * *

When Christmas holidays were over, Kiara was nearly as relieved to be returning to Hogwarts as she had been at the start of term. She had missed her parents while she was at school, but she was finding she missed her boys more. They _got_ her.

Her parents bombarded her with glamorous new robes, hair pins, and the like for Christmas, but nothing made her smile as much as the stack of prank products and sweets John B, JJ, and Pope had sent for her. The attached letter was her favorite part, and her mom had watched her read it with suspicious eyes.

“Who’s that from?” she pried. The Extendable Ears didn’t seem to really do it for her. “You can’t take those things to school.”

“I won’t,” Kiara had lied, through her smile.

The Camerons’s New Years ball was a predictable stain on her holiday. Although last year they’d gone to ritzy vineyards and restaurants in France, she’d pick that any day over being stuffed up with kids from school she didn’t really like and being expected to socialize with them.

Thankfully, Rafe had mostly ignored her, apart from a stray sneer. He was preoccupied with entertaining Kelce and Topper, whose families were also guests. Besides, he had a more special hatred reserved for JJ and John B than he had for her.

She had, however, been totally shoved with the girls her age once the adults started toasting wine and dancing.

Sarah Cameron was Sarah Cameron, so naturally, Kiara had never really found much in common with her. She looked regal and way too pretty for their age in her dress, reminding Kiara how lanky and awkward she looked in comparison. How little she fit in here, the girl with a foot in both worlds of wizarding society. 

Scarlet Atwood should have been better company in theory, seeing as she was a fellow Gryffindor, but it was almost even more awkward with her. Since she and Kiara stayed in the same dorm, it was pretty mutually acknowledged that they did not mesh as friends, even though they tolerated each other for the sake of coexistence.

Sarah and Scarlet, however, broke the stereotypical (albeit out of date) Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry and were well known as great friends. Kiara had spent most of her time quiet, hating the idea of intruding upon a tight duo with inside jokes and wishing more than anything that the boys were there. Or better yet, that she was with the boys.

Scarlet didn’t totally shy away from speaking to her once class was back in session, though.

“Hey, Kiara,” she greeted one morning in the mirror of their dormitory bathroom. She eyed her with new curiosity lurking behind her hazel gaze. Interested now that Kiara’s family had earned enough money from their restaurant in Diagon Alley to be invited to a Cameron ball, evidently.

“Uh. Hi.” Kiara was trying to tame her hair. She ended up piling it all into a bun, as she did most days, because she wasn’t at school to impress anyone, right?

Scarlet joined her on her walk to the common room, but she broke away from her as soon as Kiara spotted JJ and Pope and waved them over. Interest waned, apparently.

Kiara was better off for it, she reckoned. 

* * *

With the arrival of Valentine’s Day, the halls became dotted with hideous pink streamers and couples who pretended to love each other a whole lot more than they actually did.

For most of the younger kids like them, it was just a day they hoped to get through as quickly as possible. The more makeout sessions they avoided from soppy couples, the better (Although one long standing match up of two Gryffindor sixth years had a screaming match on the second floor and called it quits before eleven am). Pope in particular attached his eyes to the ground every time they ran up on a couple, like he’d rather cruciatus himself than watch an intimate moment.

As far as JJ was concerned, it brought the perfect pranking opportunity.

He and John B sent a box of chocolates to Rafe Cameron that glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth and turned his entire face pink when he ate them. This brought quite the spectacle at the Slytherin table during lunch. They watched in stiches from their laughter and were already plotting how they’d go bigger and better next year.

Kiara had turned up her nose and said it was all a commercial conspiracy to earn chocolate companies like Honeydukes more money, and that if couples loved each other they should show it every day. JJ didn’t miss how she rolled her eyes at the bright cards delivered to Sarah Cameron across the hall, though, and he shared similar feelings of disgust at the sight of Topper Thornton being brought a teddy bear that spouted poetry.

“His mom sent it to him,” John B claimed.

“No, man. He definitely ordered it himself,” JJ theorized, but in all honesty, he had heard some of the Gryffindor girls whispering about Topper being attractive. And rich. Rich was always a factor.

Besides the money, JJ just couldn’t imagine what they saw in him.

Kiara’s lips pressed together in amusement, and he was fairly sure she agreed with his sentiment. The fact brought a swell of relief.

His staring was interrupted by a tiny, magenta pixie zipping right in front of his face. The stupid little buggers had been everywhere all day, having been summoned to deliver Valentines. JJ just hadn't expected to see one here, in front of _him_. His fork stuck absently in his potatoes, and the pixie had gone as soon as it had come, leaving behind a horrendous pink tulip.

John B and Pope stared at it, mouths popped open, and Kiara’s eyebrows were lifted.

“Um,” JJ said. The flower was unmistakably intended for him.

“What’s that?” Pope stared at the tulip like it was a Whiz-bang ready to go off.

“Pick it up,” John B said.

Suspicious, JJ prodded it with his wand. Nothing happened. Kiara kneed him under the table, her favorite method of communication, apparently. He looked up, glaring. “I don’t think this one bites,” she said.

She nodded down the table towards where a pack of giggling first year Gryffindor girls was eyeballing him. His stomach twisted when he realized that maybe it wasn’t a Slytherin retaliation prank at all. JJ turned back to Kiara, and something on his face must have cracked her up, because she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

He decided the correct method of action towards the tulip was _out of sight, out of mind_. His hand shot forward to grab it and stash it in his bag, but the second he touched it, something horrible happened.

The tulip twitched and began to sing the worst off key tune JJ had ever heard. _“JJ JJ JJ, JJ JJ JJ, JJ JJ JJ.”_

He dropped the flower like it was on fire, and the singing halted immediately. His ringing ears didn’t prevent him from hearing John B’s massive chortles of laughter.

JJ’s hand hovered in the air, thinking maybe he could sweep the flower into his bag at rapid speed, but Pope stopped him. “ _Don’t_ touch it. It’s probably charmed to do that every time you touch it.”

Thank Merlin Pope had some semblance of thought process left, because John B was near tears beside him. JJ shot a look at Pope. “You get it, then!”

“I am so not touching that—“

“Just grab it, Pope—“

“Oh my gosh,” Kiara cut across them both. Here eyes were still twinkling with amusement, but her voice was stern. She clutched the tulip between two fingers and quickly stowed it away in her bag. “You boys are helpless.”

Needless to say, JJ was relieved when it was time to leave lunch and head to Charms. He could deal with John B’s jokes and Kiara’s pointed looks, but he didn’t want to stick around and figure out which of the first year girls had sent it to him.

He would never admit it to the boys, but the fact that some girls had found something in him appealing enough to send him a Valentine threw him off balance. He didn’t think he was ugly. He’d definitely skipped the ultra awkward phase that Pope was going through, but he also didn’t find himself overtly attractive with his secondhand robes and constantly mussed hair. And there was the fact that he was dirt poor. Girls didn’t like that, did they?

And it _certainly_ wasn’t that he never thought of girls. He did, more and more every day, if he was being honest. His eyes flitted to Kiara, almost involuntarily.

He was a master of finding distractions during school, and unfortunately for him, she was becoming a favorite one. It wasn’t that he hadn’t always known that she had a pleasant face, but he’d never thought he’d be the idiot studying how cute her nose was scrunched up when she read something she didn’t like, or noticing the exact way the stray curls escaping her bun brushed her forehead.

“Holly Hicks,” she whispered to him, when Flitwick had started lecturing.

“What?”

“Your flower,” Kiara explained, inclining her chin towards her bag. Oh. She’d misinterpreted his staring, which worked for him. “It’s from her.”

He played it off with a shrug. “Can’t say I blame her. I am a catch.”

* * *

It was a windy weekend in spring, and Kiara had plans to go watch Pope in his Wizarding Chess tournament in the courtyard. Truthfully, this would likely turn into her supervising John B and JJ as they tossed a Fanged Frisbee, and _then_ into her tossing a Fanged Frisbee with them, but she could at least go under noble pretenses.

It was still a bit chilly outside, so she popped into the girls’ dormitory to grab a scarf and maybe some warmer socks. She was met with the rest of the second year girls lounging about, sticking some droplets of potion on their nails. It made them sparkle like the night sky or ripple like the ocean for a total of twelve hours, according to the package. The others had all squealed over the product when Scarlet had received it in her post. It was apparently a top seller according to Witch Weekly, which Kiara couldn't be bothered reading. 

Lyra was curled in the corner of Kiara’s four poster, tail swishing as she stared out at the other girls with unimpressed eyes. Kiara felt a flash of guilt. There was no telling what that nail beautification potion smelt like with a feline nose.

Peeler must’ve seen Kiara looking, because she said, “Oh, hey, Kiara. Do you want to do one?”

“Oh. No thank you.”

And that would’ve been the end of it, had Scarlet not arched a brow and said, “Headed to the boys’ dorm again?”

There was a chorus of hushed giggles that made Kiara’s skin crawl. Her fingers paused on the edge of a red and gold scarf in her trunk. “No. What’s so funny?”

Scarlet smirked into her nails, which were beaming with little stars. It was Peeler who answered, “Nothing. Just, you and the boys. You know?”

No, Kiara didn’t know. So what if she got along better with the boys? No one was making any comments about how often Scarlet hung out with Slytherins.

“We were just talking about you earlier,” Scarlet said, which couldn’t be good. Reading Kiara’s expression, she added, “We were just wondering which one you like, is all.”

Several pairs of expectant eyes blinked at Kiara, and she felt more on the spot than any professor had ever made her feel. Peeler was leaned forward on her four-poster, practically bouncing on her crossed legs.

“What?” was all Kiara managed, and her voice came out bland. One note.

Scarlet wasn’t deterred. “Let me guess. John B?”

“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If you had to mack one, who would it be?”

Kiara paused, caught off guard by Scarlet's choice of wording. She was sure her expression was morphing into something ugly, but as far as she was concerned, it was deserved. “It’s not like that. They’re my best friends.”

“Kiara,” Scarlet said, like she was talking to someone very young. “Boys and girls can’t be just friends. Everyone knows that.”

“That’s the biggest load of dragon dung I’ve ever heard,” Kiara said, hotly.

She had never heard anything dumber or more stereotypical, and apparently Scarlet had never appreciated any boy as anything other than a future dating prospect, if that was her opinion. The concept left a bad taste in Kiara’s mouth, like her relationship with the boys had been cheapened to some shallow game of eenie meanie miney mo.

The other girls shared knowing sniggers, and Kiara found her irritation spiking to dangerous levels. Scarlet dipped her chin and said, “Even if you don’t like any of them, one of them is going to like you at some point. It’s unavoidable.”

“Whatever. We’ll see about that.” Kiara yanked her scarf out of her trunk with more voice than necessary, and she didn’t even bother to check her reflection in the bathroom before she got the hell out of there.

A pit rose in her stomach as she walked, and despite her words, a little part of Kiara couldn’t help but wonder if Scarlet had a point. The boys didn’t think of her that way, she knew they didn’t, but what if one of them developed a crush on her at some point? Merlin forbid, what if two of them did? What if it threw off the entire group dynamic and the friendship crumbled in on itself, just like that, because she was a member of the opposite sex?

Unbidden, she couldn’t help but wonder, _what if I’m the one who gets a crush and screws up_? A flash of John B and his charming curly hair, and of Pope, helping her with a difficult homework question. Her mind had settled on a dimpled smile before she cut off that thought process, once and for all. She was _so_ not going there.

They were her best friends. That was all.

The journey to the courtyard was short, with Kiara so consumed in her thoughts. The boys had offered to stay and walk with her, but she’d urged them to go. She hadn’t wanted them complaining about her holding them up, and now she was glad for the reprieve from them.

Pope had already begun his match, which was against a lanky third year Ravenclaw with black-framed glasses. He’d brought along one friend, who was already sneaking disproving peaks at John B and JJ. They were too busy hooting and hollering with their Fanged Frisbee to notice or care.

“Are you guys trying to bring out Filch?” Kiara complained, announcing her presence. She wrapped her arms around herself, already thanking her lucky stars for her extra layers.

JJ was, of course, strutting around, robes discarded on an empty table and wearing nothing but his white dress shirt and trousers. She expected John B would soon follow suit. He turned in her direction, a cheeky grin decorating his face.

“Hey, Kie,” he greeted, and she tried not to picture him in a few years. The angles of his face would become more defined, and he was sure to shoot up like a tree and become taller- _no_.

JJ didn’t notice the mild tizzy she was in. “Pope’s destroying them.”

“Shut up, JJ,” Pope hissed, glaring down at the chessboard. His tongue was stuck out of his mouth in concentration, and Kiara determined that he was not in fact destroying anything apart from his own chances of winning.

“We’re with you, man,” John B shouted, across the yard. He broke off into a yelp when the Fanged Frisbee nipped his hand, and Kiara snorted.

They were such morons.

_She_ was a moron. There was nothing to be worried about.

* * *

It was another boring Monday afternoon. The others were starting to study for finals, but as far as JJ was concerned? Finals sminals.

“So, Topper called me a pogue three times today. I guess it’s time I throw in the towel,” JJ said, straight faced and feet propped onto their common room table. He tossed a quaffle absently in the air, his go to when the others actually conceded and cracked open a book.

“It makes him feel important,” Kiara said, in a tone that gave away her thinning patience with studying. Her quill pressed down harder on her notes, and he smirked. She would break soon. 

“I’m doing History of Magic.” Pope didn’t look up from his book, but he should’ve learned by now that a challenge only made JJ’s resolve to annoy someone multiply tenfold.

“An even better reason to talk about how we’re all pogues, Pope.”

John B’s face lit up. He’d abandoned the pretense of studying twenty minutes ago, and his book lay abandoned on the table. “I have an idea.”

“You?” JJ feigned surprise. John B shoved at his chest, but otherwise ignored him.

That was how they ended up in the boys’ dormitory, an enormous banner splayed over the floor. Kiara had painted “THE POGUES” across it in some of the fancy paints her parents had sent her for her birthday. The letters flashed red and gold, and although she claimed her artistic skills were limited, JJ knew it looked a hell of a lot better than anything any of them would do.

When she wasn’t looking, he scribbled a stick figure lion in the corner. Her eyebrows scrunched up when she saw it, and then slowly relaxed into a mildly unimpressed look.

“Really?”

“We can’t all share my talents, Kie,” he said, moving to hang the poster on the wall between his and John B’s four-posters. Kiara rolled her eyes, but yanked up the other end of the banner to help him.

“Wait, wait,” John B exclaimed, following their movements. “Since we have a name, we might as well make our code official.”

Silence hung in the air. JJ wondered if he should start mocking then, or later.

“A code?” Kiara’s tone was doubtful.

Immediately it was. “That’s cute, John B,” JJ said, but John B was unbothered. He took the paintbrush, wrestling JJ to the side.

“Number one: Once a pogue, always a pogue.” John B scribbled it on the banner with his chicken scratch. JJ and Pope sniggered, which he ignored. “What next?”

“We’re really doing this...” Pope muttered. He cleared his throat, and JJ thought his gaze lingered on him for a moment when he suggested, “No pogue left behind?”

He flashed back to last year, when Pope hadn’t reacted well at all to his news. He’d been ready to strike out on his own, abandoning them all together but… he was glad they hadn’t let him.

“Yes, yes, good thinking,” John B said.

JJ couldn’t help but notice that Kiara had remained uncharacteristically quiet during all of this. She was frowning, one arm tucked in to her side.

She shuffled, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and finally said, “No pogue on pogue macking.”

JJ’s first reaction was to laugh. “No what?”

His second was a moment of brief, illogical panic that he quickly shoved down.

“Wait, what?” John B echoed, and his paintbrush stilled.

Kiara avoided eye contact, studying the floor instead. Her fists clenched, and she slowly raised her gaze. “No pogue on pogue macking,” she repeated. “Write it down.”

JJ felt himself drifting towards her. The smile on his face was only a little plastic when he said, “Is this your way of telling us you think we want to mack you? Bold, Carrera.”

“Not to imply anything, but why do we need this rule, exactly?” Pope asked.

Kiara glared at JJ and Pope, but mostly JJ. “Listen. I just think it’s a good idea. It'll keep things from getting weird, you know?”

She wasn’t looking at JJ with any particular amount of suspicion. No real signs pointed to him that she knew of his.... _thing_ with her. There was a wild moment of wondering if one of the other boys had said something, expressed some sort of crush on her, but they looked every bit as confused as JJ was.

John B was the one to break the silence. “Fine. No pogue on pogue macking.”

And then there it was, gleaming back at JJ from the banner, in indisputable black ink. Kiara’s shoulders relaxed a little, like some weight had been lifted off of them.

JJ rubbed his hands together. “Sweet. Looks like we’re all official, then.”

“Wait,” Kiara said. “We need one more.”

They all turned their expectant eyes on her. JJ already had laughter on his lips, ready to tease her about whatever arbitrary thing came out of her mouth. Nothing could throw him off balance more than the last one she’d suggested.

She met all of their gazes, slowly. “No secrets amongst pogues.”

And the amusement fell right off JJ’s face. Pope, of course, looked straight at JJ, but John B managed to play it off a bit more coolly. His hand stretched back out over the banner. “Alright. Good. No secrets amongst pogues.”

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love comments and am more than open to suggestions of scenes you'd like to see of them at Hogwarts! Bring them to my ask box on tumblr if you'd like.


	3. third year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but I think we've accepted by now that these chapters just take me a while to write. Lol.

A lonely summer earning a few galleons at the Leaky Cauldron was preferable to staying at home (If he could call it that), so as soon as his last transformation before term started was over, JJ booked it. He’d only been on the Knight Bus a total of four times before, but he was a smooth enough talker than no one questioned him boarding with trunks all ready to go almost a month before school was set to start. Of course, no one on the Knight Bus questioned much of anything.

Any other thirteen year old would’ve balked at the idea. Working, in a grimy pub for wages below the legal minimum (And probably illegal due to his age to begin with) when it was supposed to be his time off, but second to Hogwarts, it was the best time JJ had spent in ages. He had a roof over his head in the form of temporary employee lodging, hot food in his stomach every night, and no one stalking the hallway threateningly after him. He even managed to send a quick letter to each of his friends.

Otherwise, it was just him, the scruffy bar owner Tom, and the talking mirror in his room, which seemed fascinated by his hair.

_Ah, such luscious locks of gold._

_Perfection, I do say._

_Such a handsome lad!_

He’d found it hilarious at first, but without John or Pope around to watch him bask in its compliments, it became grating. He wasn’t allowed to use a silencing charm on it outside of school, so he’d taken to shoving his clothes on as fast as possible and hardly sparing his hair a glance in the mirror. He made it out to bus tables looking like shit, but when their regular patrons included hags, he couldn’t be bothered.

A week into his stay, there was a commotion from the courtyard entrance.

An exclamation of, “JJ!” and a blur of curly hair from the corner of his vision, and suddenly Kiara Carrera was standing in front of him. Her hair was wrapped up in a headband, pushed off her face, and she was dressed in a strange clover colored robe assembly.

She paused a few inches from him, like maybe she’d thought to hug him, and then remembered he wasn’t John B. She was panting from exertion, though, and a smile was stretched across her face.

JJ had to stare at her for several seconds to register that she was there. “Kie! What are- what are you doing here?”

She tilted her head, like she was exasperated. As usual. “Nice to see you too.”

It was nice to see her. Incredibly nice. In fact, JJ was waiting for the catch, the downside of whatever this was. Luck was never so in his favor.

She continued, “I got your letter! I’ve been working at the restaurant this summer so I’m here almost every day.”

He’d heard a lot about the Carrera restaurant. Not always from Kiara, because she got flustered and quiet when people (Usually him) brought up how much richer her family was than all of theirs, but the Wreck was apparently soaring high on its way to becoming one of the most popular wizarding restaurants in London.

He raised a brow at her attire. “That why you’re in Slytherin colors? Looks like a traitor to me.”

“Okay, _no_. It’s not even emerald.”

“Too close for comfort, if you ask me.” A moment passed of them just grinning at each other.

She bumped his shoulder, and he remembered the dirty glasses in his grip. One was dried with the remnants of what looked a little too like blood for comfort, but he must have missed the looks of that particular customer. A vampire, he suspected.

“I thought since we’ll both be around we could hang out.”

JJ glanced over his shoulder. Tom was eyeing him with beady eyes from behind the counter, and there were a few patrons strewn about, nursing drinks. He ran a hand through his hair, and he had the sudden thought that maybe he should’ve gotten over it and spent a little time in front of the mirror that morning.

“That old goon’ll smother me if my sleep in I leave now. How about when I’m off?”

Kiara’s shoulders relaxed. “Cool.”

If the days before were tolerable, the weeks following became some of the best of JJ’s life. He and Kiara met up as many times a week as possible, whenever their shifts ended at an appropriate time that allowed them to. Sometimes, when she was especially bored, she sat in the Leaky Cauldron while he worked, shit talking his busboy skills and taking a sip of a butterbeer to hide her smirks.

The days they got to wander Diagon Alley, however, were the best.

They visited Gambol and Japes, grinning over all the new products and fantasizing over potential ways to get back at the Slytherins once term started back. JJ didn’t actually buy much of anything; he wanted to save some of his new money for Hogsmeade trips, a new privilege they were allowed this year, but he did slip some dungbombs into his pockets when Kiara wasn’t looking. She said nothing when he miraculously produced them to use on passerby later, but he reckoned she was probably considering his integrity a lost cause by this point.

There were discussions of the new electives they’d added to their schedules this year. Kiara had opted to take Care of Magical Creatures and Divination because those were the ones she was most interested in, though she claimed to have had a long argument with her mother about how she’d left Arithmancy out. JJ had chosen the same courses as her, partly because they’d seemed easiest, but mostly because she was going to be in them. Along with John B, of course.

She didn’t even grill him on whether or not his dad cared about him being gone for the end of summer. She probably thought he was that desperate for galleons (which he was) and was tired of his bullshit answers, anyway. He was glad.

No secrets amongst pogues was going to have to amount to bigger and better lies if he planned to remain Kiara’s friend. Which, unfortunately, he did.

It was easy to forget his troubles with no transformation in sight and Kiara grinning at his side while they staked out Quality Quidditch Supplies. She didn’t have an enormous interest in the sport itself, but JJ found she loved looking at the new broom models as much as he did, discussing their pros and cons, which brand she thought was superior and why.

“Since I’m going to have a bonehead on the team this year, I guess I have to go to all the matches,” Kiara said one day, rolling her eyes. It didn’t take JJ long to realize she was talking about him. They’d all heard Sebastian Bell badgering him at some point or another last semester.

He didn’t take his gaze off the Comet broom he’d been checking out. “Nah. I’m not trying out.”

“JJ,” she said, in that special tone she reserved for being especially tired of their shit.

“ _Kiara_ ,” he mimicked. “It’s not really my thing.”

He sensed her shuffling next to him. She did this when she was gearing up to bring up a subject that made him prickly, like she was debating her pros and cons before following through.

Evidently, the pros won out. “You can share my broom.”

There was a burst of annoyance, but Kiara was watching him with a nervous frown, and he forced himself to remember that she was just being nice. Charity ran through her veins, and they’d been having a nice time. He tried not to ruin the day with his short fuse.

“If I wanted handouts, I’d get on my knees, Kie.” He kept his tone light, but his message was clear.

“Maybe I just want Gryffindor to win.”

But the subject was successfully dropped, for the time being.

JJ didn’t miss the fact that for the most part, they steered clear of the Wreck. He wasn’t a total fool; he knew why. Adults didn’t like him, especially proper, rich adults with a daughter he was hanging out with. Corrupting her innocence and all that jazz.

It wasn’t that he thought Kiara was ashamed of him, exactly, but the he figured the avoidance was mutually beneficial. He wouldn’t have to deal with her parents’ stares, and she wouldn’t have to listen to them bitching behind his back. As for her parents, ignorance was bliss.

She did drag him into the Wreck kitchens one day to grab them some butterbeers. She’d argued that they were free and also the closest, but really he thought she was just trying to prove to him that he didn’t totally embarrass her.

Mike Carrera had stared at him, wand directing some water to boiling and face as unmoving as stone. JJ figured he’d rather set the butterbeer on fire than give it to a little bum like him for free, but he hadn’t said a word when Kiara snatched a couple.

For the first time since he’d started attending Hogwarts, JJ found himself almost disappointed when it was time for term to begin.

Kiara walked him back to the brick wall entrance to the Leaky Cauldron two days before the Hogwarts Express was set to depart. There was a new comfort in the silence between them that hadn’t quite been there before, and JJ wasn’t sure what to make of it. He was toeing a dangerous line.

“Well.” Kiara shrugged her shoulders, throwing him a half smile in the dim lighting. Her parents would probably yell at her for staying out to late, but she’d assured him she didn’t particularly care. “See you Friday.”

“Later,” he said.

There was a beat, and then she was shuffling forward to give him an awkward side hug. Her arm was warm around his neck, and then it was gone, leaving him strangely flustered.

“Bye,” Kiara said again. She spun on her heel and headed back down the cobblestone pathway, taking the shreds of JJ’s sanity with her.

* * *

The start of term feast was always a highlight of a year at Hogwarts. People darted around, catching up with friends from different houses that they hadn’t gotten to catch up with on the train, and laughter was in the air.

Except, of course, for the first years. They were practically shaking in their robes as they waited for their turn at the sorting hat, as if they were on the executioner’s block instead of going to be told which table to sit at.

“Slytherin,” Pope said. His eyes were narrowed in concentration.

“Gryffindor,” John B guessed.

Kiara’s slammed her hand down on the table, laughter bubbling in her throat. JJ had a mouth full of mashed potatoes (Probably the only reason he hadn’t blurted his answer out first) and he raised his brows at her look. “That’s the girl from Leaky. Ravenclaw.”

They’d been sat in the Leaky Cauldron, playing a horrible game of wizard’s chess (It only lasted thirty minutes before JJ grew bored) when the redhead under the hat had started a shouting match a few tables over with her parents. They had wanted her to put her book away for family time; she didn’t concur.

It took JJ a moment of surveying the girl under the hat, but then he snorted. Mouth halfway full, he agreed, “Ravenclaw.”

“RAVENCLAW!” the hat belted, and Kiara reached across the table to high five JJ.

“For the record, it’s totally unfair you guys got to hang out this summer,” John B said. “Living with muggles is boring.”

Despite his moaning, Kiara seriously doubted John B would give up his months with his dad. He didn’t get to send many letters to him while he was at school due to being out in the field a lot with his research, but Kiara knew from the fond look John B got in his eyes when he mentioned his dad that he loved him.

“My dad had me on lockdown,” Pope muttered. Indeed, they had stopped by the Heyward’s shop one day and been informed exactly that. Heyward’s distrustful gaze had zeroed in right on JJ, like he wore some stench spell warding parents away from him. “Wants me to start reading ahead so I get enough OWLS.”

“Dude,” JJ said. He looked disgusted. “OWLs are ages away.”

“Yeah, Pope. Your grades are great,” Kiara agreed.

“Try telling him that.”

“Slytherin,” JJ and John said, simultaneously, interrupting the conversation. The line of first years was dwindling now.

Pope’s head shot up. Panicked, he decided, “Gryffindor.”

Kiara narrowed her eyes. The boy in question had a proud stance, with his shoulders thrown back. But he was wringing his hands, and he shot a nervous smile at some of the first year Ravenclaws that had just been sorted. She took a chance. “Hufflepuff.”

“HUFFLEPUFF,” the hat crooned, and the boys scowled.

“How are you so good?” John B complained. She had pulled ahead by two points against Pope, the runner up, in their guessing game, which she knew due to the little sheet Pope was scribbling on beside his plate. He marked something out furiously, like he was reevaluating his strategy.

“You’re cheating,” JJ accused, but there was a glint in his eye, like he’d rather like to be in on it.

Reading JJ was something she’d realized she’d become startlingly good at. Whether she’d actually gotten that much better at it or he was just letting her remained to be seen.

“It’s just the vibe.” Kiara lifted her chin, smug. She had the guessing game in the bag, and she pulled ahead by yet another point by the time the sorting was finished.

She was jittery with happiness as JJ and Pope began arguing technicalities across the tale from each other. _Their_ vibe, that of the pogues, was better than it had ever been.

The summer in Diagon Alley? One of the most fortunate things to have happened to her, she decided.

Predictably, her dad had had an opinion on JJ. He wanted to meet the kid she kept running off to meet after shifts, especially if it was a boy.

She hadn’t wanted to bring JJ around. He got cagey around adults, and she didn’t want to subject him to her parents’ snobbery and prove his first impressions of her correct. But ultimately, letting her dad get a glimpse of him was a preferable alternative to her mom, so she’d allowed it.

Her dad wasn’t particularly pleased. She could tell by the tightening of his mouth, and he’d later pulled her aside and said, “Who are that kids’ parents, again?”

“Muggles,” she’d lied. “He lives in London.”

Kiara didn’t know a lot about JJ’s family, but she knew he didn’t want to talk about it. His eyes didn’t match John B’s when _his_ father was brought up, and she doubted it would be anything pleasant if her own father knew anything.

* * *

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and JJ, John B, and Kiara were lingering at the Gryffindor table longer after lunch than they normally would. Pope had headed off to his Arithmancy class, JJ and John B were engaged in fiercely competitive game of Exploding Snap, and Kiara had a mangled mass of fabric hovering in the air before her.

Her eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration, and she appeared to be trying to use her wand to direct a pair of twin needles. She’d been on some sort of gung ho creative streak recently, preaching about the pros of making one’s own clothing and yadda yadda. JJ usually even listened to her for a bit, the good friend that he was. Privately, he thought she probably just wanted to annoy her mom by wearing something handmade rather than whatever they’d spent their too many galleons on.

John B’s cards exploded, and he slammed his palm on the table. “Shit!”

JJ whooped victoriously, collecting his cards, and Kiara raised her brows at them. “You’re distracting me from my hat,” she said, but JJ knew she wasn’t actually annoyed. She put up with heaps of loud noises from the pair of them on the daily.

John B stopped scowling down at his cards to meet JJ’s eyes. JJ looked away and back at the disaster Kiara had before her, a snigger escaping him. “That’s supposed to be a hat?”

Kiara glared at him. “Rude.”

“It’s the best hat I’ve ever seen, Kie,” John B said, which prompted her expression to darken even further. He began dealing another hand of cards, totally unbothered.

“Stop being a lamoe and play with us,” JJ suggested, pushing some of the deck her way.

He loved watching her play Exploding Snap. She had all the tension of Pope and all the competitiveness of JJ and John B combined, so she’d sit there, shoulders pulled tight and inevitably slapping her hands over cards far more forcefully than necessary. Her scowl when JJ’s reflexes outpaced hers made the game ten times more fun.

“Sorry you think knitting clothes so poor house elves don’t have to do it all is lame,” Kiara said. Her eyes drifted from JJ’s imploring expression to the game, and he sensed her resolve weakening. “Maybe a quick game though.”

“Alright, Kie!” John B dealt with renewed enthusiasm, and JJ gave a lazy grin.

“You guys are going down.”

Kiara scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”

They didn’t get to find out, though, because a flurry of wings and brown feathers flashed and suddenly an owl had landed on the table. Its head twitched in that creepy, reptilian way that owls did, and its intelligent gaze honed in on JJ. It stuck out a leg, like _hello, someone take this already_ and a small, thick piece of parchment dangled from it.

JJ stared. He didn’t get letters.

The owl hooted, feathers spiking up with impatience. Kiara’s warm hands reached for the envelope, gently untying it. “Shh, I got it. Thank you.”

She fished around in her bag for an owl treat (Because _of course_ she carried around owl treats) and then the bird was gone with one last unimpressed glanced at JJ. Kiara squinted down at the parchment. Slowly, her hand holding the note stretched out towards JJ.

“It’s for you.”

Kiara was still frowning. John B shrugged at him.

He took the letter, and something between relief and resentment flittered through him when he immediately realized the handwriting was not his father’s.

_Mr. Maybank,_

_I would like a word with you in my office. Your earliest convenience, if you will._

_Minerve McGonagall_

_Hogwarts Headmistress and Head of Transfiguration Department_

JJ’s mind raced a mile a minute. He couldn’t think of any overtly awful offense he’d committed this term. Not yet. It must have something to do with his wolfsbane, or maybe some news about his upcoming transformation.

Or shit. He really hoped McGonagall hadn’t already smelt out the forgery quill he’d used on his Hogsmeade permission slip. It wasn’t like Luke Maybank would come after the school if he died in a terrible Hogsmeade accident. JJ figured he might even write them a letter of thanks.

“McGonagall wants to see me,” he told his friends, who’d been watching nosily as he read.

“JJ…” Kiara shot him a worried look. He knew she must be fretting he’d done something to get expelled, because getting called to the Headmistress’s office was no common matter.

“It’s nothing.” JJ kept his tone light and airy, but as soon as Kiara turned to see John B’s opinion in all of this, he widened his eyes at him meaningfully. Thankfully, John B caught on.

“Hey, Kie, we could do one on one while he’s gone,” he suggested.

Kiara didn’t look convinced, but JJ was already gathering his books to leave. He may as well go and get whatever it was over with. Besides, if it had something to do with his furry little cousin, as John B so referred to it, then it must be urgent. Normally she was as discreet as possible.

“I guess,” she muttered, and JJ assumed if McGonagall did end up threatening him with expulsion then Kiara would be threatening him with death on the other end.

He climbed to the second floor, passed through the gargoyle guard at the entrance of the headmistress’s office, and started up the familiar stone staircase. Since the start of his second year, all of his potions had been mailed to his dorm for subtlety’s sake, but it was still a well-worn path for him.

The low, soothing notes of McGonagall’s self-playing harp danced to his ears, suggesting she probably wasn’t in a mood that would lead to his bags loaded back up on the first train to King’s Cross. The sight of her behind her mahogany desk proved him right; she wasn’t smiling, but her gaze was calm when she glanced up from her stack papers.

“Mr. Maybank,” she said, waving a hand at the spindly chair across from her. He plopped down without grace, and her unimpressed eyes met his over the rim of her glasses.

He cleared his throat. “McG-Professor.”

She sat her quill down and interlaced her fingers. “It’s come to my attention that Mr. Bell is entirely upset you didn’t show up at the first day of Quidditch tryouts.”

For a moment, JJ was certain he must have misheard her.

He started to shake his head, but she cut him off. “ _If_ ,” she stressed. “Being on the team is something you’re interested in, we can ensure the matches align with your schedule.”

JJ stared at her, struggling to comprehend what she was saying. Unable to grasp that she was proposing what he thought she was proposing.

“And we have scholarship funds for brooms, if necessary,” McGonagall continued. “It may not be the latest release, but it’ll get you off the ground.”

“You want me to play Quidditch?” was all JJ seemed to be able to manage.

For the first time, he allowed himself to imagine it. Himself, decked out in scarlet robes and in the center of the roar of the crowd. Adrenaline would be pumping through his veins, and he’d be doing something… fun. _Normal_. Out of his reach.

“I don’t think Bell would come to me unless he was quite determined you’d be an asset,” McGonagall said. “I understand that as headmistress it’s not really my place to encourage house rivalries, however…. I do like to see Gryffindor perform well.”

JJ’s first instinct was to say no. To not trust what she was offering, that there must be some sort of downside, as he had survived this long on little trusting and wishing.

But then he remembered how McGonagall had stopped by the hospital wing when he was a first year. How she’d taken in a mangy werewolf boy not because she had to, but because she’d gone above and beyond to get him there.

“The matches are already scheduled?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Absolutely nothing on the days you wouldn’t be available,” she assured him.

The next afternoon he sauntered into the Quidditch pitch, the pogues all trailing behind him to sit in the stands. Sebastian Bell was busy screaming at a few guys who hardly seemed to be able to fly a straight line, much less effectively toss a quaffle.

JJ adjusted his grip on his new Cleansweep, aiming for casual. “So we’re having tryouts?”

Sebastian Bell’s jaw practically hit the ground. He looked like he could cry at the sight of him.

* * *

The first weekend in October brought with it steadily cooling temperatures, heavier course loads, and their first scheduled Hogsmeade trip as third years.

Kiara had been to Hogsmeade once or twice with her parents, but the boys were practically bouncing with excitement to get out of the castle grounds. Her mom would say that was no way to act. That they needed to show some self control. To her, however, it was infectious.

They piled into Zonkos first, and it was easy to see that it was one of the hottest places on the street. JJ and John B were unstoppable, darting around and threatening to use this product and that product on one another. A few of their classmates shot them uneasy glances, like they didn’t like the idea of them having access to a place with so many untrustworthy objects. As for Kiara, she kept her eyes on JJ, making sure his hands didn’t slip anything into his pockets without paying, but to her pleasant surprise, his purchase of products was completely legal. Apparently, that summer job had been good for him.

Honeydukes was by far the best, in her opinion. Kiara bought chocolate frogs, sugar quills, and bags of Bertie Bott’s for talking the boys into eating later. When they weren’t looking, she grabbed a few of their favorites as well; Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum for John B, peppermint toads for Pope, sour sugar quills for JJ, and extra chocolate frogs for them all.

She had to admit, she was caught off guard by the boys not clamoring for a look at the Shrieking Shack. Many of the other kids in their year had made it a priority, and she’d half expected her idiots to want to sneak inside it or something. She was halfway ready to join them.

“What, no one wants to go look at the shack? No breaking inside it?” Kiara teased, bumping her shoulder with John B’s and shooting a smirk at JJ. He probably believed the story about it being haunted, knowing him.

They all fell sketchily quiet.

JJ was the first to break the silence.

“Dude. It’s just a shitty old building,” he said, breezily. “I could be eating.”

“Yeah, I’m really hungry,” John B said, far too loudly. Pope shot looks between the three of them and gave a sharp nod of agreement.

Kiara’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you guys are scared.”

Pope coughed. “It’s probably just an angry old ghoul that’s in there. I can look at it with you, Kie.”

“Maybe later.” The prospect of the building had dimmed greatly in the absence of JJ and John B’s interest. She supposed she hadn’t really been that into it, but it was out of place for them to not make an adventure of it.

JJ squinted up at a wooden sign so worn the letters could hardly be made out. “What’s Hog’s Head? A restaurant?”

Kiara was quick to steer him in a different direction. She was down for adventure, not down for food poisoning. Or actual poisoning. “Uh, _no_. Let’s try Three Broomsticks.”

Predictably, the pub was packed with students, and the air was hazy with smoke and several degrees warmer than the outside when they shoved their way in. John B stood on his tiptoes, straining over the heads of the upperclassman and the few adult wizards who had braved the village on a Hogwarts weekend.

“There’s a table!”

Kiara crammed in the tiny booth next to Pope, JJ and John B across from them.

“If we want drinks, someone’s gotta go get them,” Kiara said. She peered over towards the bar, where the line was dwindling despite the volume of bodies packed inside. She worried that if they all abandoned their table, they’d never find another one, but she was desperately craving a hot butterbeer.

“There’s like, no way I can stand up right now. Sorry.” JJ stretched out under the table, and once again, Kiara was caught off guard by just how long his legs had grown. His knee easily brushed hers, and she could feel the warmth even through the muggle jeans she had on.

“You’re on the end of the booth,” John B pointed out. JJ shrugged, like it wasn’t his problem to work out.

“Wand goes,” Pope blurted, and like the cheater he was, his hand was already poised to whip out his wand. Kiara fumbled, dead last, and John B and JJ broke out into a squabble about who’d gotten theirs out first.

“No way. I had it.”

“I have the reflexes of a Quidditch player, man.” Ever since JJ had given in and joined the team, this seemed to be his argument for everything. _I have Quidditch practice, so I can’t have a detention, Flitwick! With my Quidditch talents, I’m obviously better than you_ , _John B!_

“Well, it looks like I should be the one on the team then—“

“Dude—“

Kiara shut the dispute down by sliding her arm through JJ’s and yanking him to his feet, just because he was closest. “Just get up. I need someone to help me carry.”

John B grinned in delight, and JJ shook his head. “Totally unfair, just for the record.”

She dragged him over to the bar, which was tended by Madam Rosmerta, a witch Kiara knew by name only due to the comments her mother had made under her breath about her too-flashy style during their previous visits. JJ complaints suddenly seemed to die in his throat, and a questioning glance told her that he was busy tracking the movements of the curvy blonde. Kiara rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please.”

“What?” he protested, eyes fluttering too innocently.

“You’re an animal,” she chided, and he snorted, like the joke was a lot funnier than she’d intended it to be. She gave him a weird look, and when it was their turn at the bar, she was quick to step forward, ordering for them before he could embarrass them; three icy butterbeers for the boys, a warm one for her, and two orders of fish and chips for them all to share.

JJ was surprisingly adept at balancing the trays with drinks, so he was left to carry most of it. She waited for another remark about Quidditch prowess, which surprisingly didn’t come.

Which, that could’ve just been due to the person that knocked between them.

The action jostled the drinks in Kiara’s arms and summoned a scowl to her face. JJ glanced at her, similarly disgruntled. A rebuttal was on her lips, but then her eyes caught the familiar long, dark hair of Scarlet Atwood. Biting off the head of her dorm mate might result in a little more drama than she needed this early in the semester.

She hadn’t missed the way the other girls occasionally exchanged looks when she said something particularly bluntly. Probably thought her rude, even.

“Excuse us,” Kiara snapped, and yeah, they could think she was rude if they wanted.

“Oh.” Scarlet glanced over her shoulder, like she had just realized what she’d done. She ignored Kiara completely, lashes batting in a way that was a whole lot nicer than they ever had at her. “Sorry, JJ.”

The emphasis on JJ’s name left Kiara feeling rather like she could hurl. Her head whipped around to look at him, to see if he was equally affronted, but his eyebrows were raised in mild surprise.

“No problem,” he said, and Scarlet flounced over to a table full of third and fourth year girls, Sarah Cameron included. The princess sat at the center of the table, the beacon of everyone’s attention just as she no doubt preferred.

Kiara’s face must have shown something sour, because as soon as they returned to their table, John B asked, “What’s wrong with you, Grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy.”

Pope’s chin was propped up on his palm. He gave her an appraising look as JJ slid in next to him. “You seem pretty grumpy.”

JJ scoffed. “Oh, sure. Your face looks like this.”

He did his best impression of someone who’d just swallowed something horrible. Kiara flung a chip at him, and it smacked right in the middle of his forehead.

“Hope you dodge bludgers better than that,” Pope said, while John B guffawed.

JJ shrugged, casually picking the fallen chip up off the seat next to him and crunching on it. Kiara and Pope exchanged _oh my god_ glances, but John B slurped his butterbeer obliviously. “Guys. This is amazing,” he enthused, and it took Kiara a moment to realize that being from a muggle family, he’d probably never tried it.

By the time the morning turned to afternoon, they’d finished off their drinks and food. Kiara was full of laughter and sugar from Honeydukes candies they’d begun breaking in, and overall, it had to be one of the best days at Hogwarts she could remember.

“I have an idea,” JJ announced, which was never a good sign. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was swimming on an especially no-good very bad plan.

Naturally, John B was eager. “Spill.”

Pope’s eyes were darting around nervously, and Kiara had to concur. However, when JJ leaned forward, she couldn’t help but lean in to better hear whatever insane thing he was going to propose.

“You guys ever tried firewhiskey?”

Pope coughed, and even John B looked torn between intrigue and nerves. “No, no I have not,” Pope hissed.

“Have _you_?” John B asked.

JJ shook his head, and Kiara was a bit surprised, given his summer job around so many varieties of drinks. Maybe that old Tom was stricter than she’d thought. “No, but gotta break it in sometime, right?”

“We’d never be let back into the school if we had it on us,” Kiara said. “They might miss things, but firewhiskey wouldn’t be one of them.”

She had to admit, she was a little intrigued, but… the teachers wouldn’t take a group of third years with alcohol as a harmless offense, even if they did manage to get their hands on some. She might risk a detention or two, but getting tipsy wasn’t worth more than that.

JJ turned his seawater gaze on her. “I thought you wanted to live on the edge, Kie?”

She knew he was referring to her taunting him about the Shrieking Shack earlier. She crossed her arms. “Maybe. Not jumping off it.”

There was a crease between John B’s brows, and Kiara knew he was wavering. If John B wasn’t in, nothing was happening. “She’s got a point.”

“Thank you,” Pope muttered, still antsy. Kiara suspected getting the three of them back to the castle in one piece would be a weight lifted off his shoulders.

JJ looked around him, and she knew he was seeing that he’d lost. She really hoped he wasn’t going to try to rogue it. It was with a sense of relief that she heard him say, “ _Fine_. We’ll think of a better way.”

Kiara and John B met each other’s eyes. A smarter way that wouldn’t get them caught, on a day when they’d have more time to think their plans through.

John B gave her a little shrug, and she nodded. “Deal,” they said in unison.

Pope buried his face in his hands.

* * *

Between his two new classes, keeping up with his lunar calendar and pretenses, and his new position as a starting beater on the quidditch team, JJ was astounded at how much his amount of free time seemed to shrivel away. In fact, he was almost as bad as Pope, who’d added three classes to his schedule instead of just two, and John B and Kiara had taken to exchanging dramatic eye rolls whenever one of the two of them had to leave a group hang out for one of their other commitments.

And a commitment quidditch was. They’d only had practices so far, which didn’t stop rain or storm, by the way, but the approving nods of the older students on his team whenever he made a daring dive or slugged a bludger particularly well were beginning to make JJ twitchy.

He wasn’t used to being good at something productive. To being greeted with grins and whoops instead of apprehensive glances.

Before he knew it, the morning of the season’s first game dawned with the day of their match against Ravenclaw. And JJ wasn’t nervous, exactly. He didn’t do _nervous_. If there was one talent he had in this universe, it was being freaking fantastic on his broom, and he knew it.

There was just a tiny, tiny prickle in his stomach that seemed to be counting down the time bomb for him to screw it all up. For him to lose the game for the team, to get thrown out, to have a professor suddenly remember he had Saturday detention every day for the rest of the year and could no longer participate.

“Big day today, huh,” John B goaded over breakfast. JJ paused in buttering his toast, cutting his eyes at his friend, but then he forced his body to relax. He passed it all off with a shrug.

He wasn’t fucking nervous.

“Ravenclaw’s kind of known for surprise maneuvers. They knocked a Hufflepuff off his broom last year,” Pope, who had to be the least bit interested in quidditch out of all of them, mentioned. JJ caught Kiara glaring at Pope out of the corner of his eye, and Pope froze, like he’d realized exactly what he’d said. “Not that I think you’ll get knocked off your broom!”

“Come on, guys,” JJ said, through mouthful of eggs. Kiara turned her glare on him, which melted from annoyance to something like vague disappointment mixed with disgust. He paid her no mind. “I’m great on my broom, okay?”

And he was. He really, really was.

“Not as good as you think you are,” John B said, dramatically. JJ still felt Kiara’s eyes boring into him, but he ignored them in favor of starting an argument with John B. He could fly circles around him any day, and they all knew it.

“Let’s see you on a broom then,” JJ challenged. “I can race you and still kick Ravenclaw’s ass right after.”

Predictably, John B didn’t take him up on that offer.

As soon as they finished eating, JJ scrambled back up the tower to change into his new crimson robes. The bright number three stood out like a beacon on his back, and the dragon hide quidditch gloves stretched tight across his hands. Despite his constant use of them, the trusty beater’s bat he carried in every practice already seemed to be wearing a series of calluses in across his palms.

Sebastian Bell wanted his entire team down at the pitch at least forty-five minutes before the game, which was just obsessive in JJ’s opinion. For once, though, he chose to follow the rules, and he made his way out onto the grounds with the pogues at his side.

“We’ll be able to get the best seat this way,” John B enthused. He spun around, briefly walking backwards to shoot JJ a mocking look. “Better view if JJ wipes out.”

JJ flipped him off, and John B chuckled.

“John B,” Kiara complained.

“The teachers would never let anyone get hurt,” Pope reasoned.

“Please. So not wiping out.”

JJ fidgeted with his gloves again, flexing his fingers and watching the leather contract and stretch in turn. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen a few steps behind the others until he felt a soft touch land on his forearm. He jumped reflexively, but then his eyes traveled up the gentle fingers to Kiara’s cinnamon and mocha flecked gaze. There was a little wrinkle between her brows.

Her grip tightened. “Hey. You’re gonna do great. Really.”

JJ stared at her. Imagined brushing the wrinkle away for one incredibly embarrassing moment, and then he was staring resolutely at the grass crunching beneath his boots. He cleared his throat. “Merlin, Kie. Sometimes your obsession with me is just embarrassing.”

Her soft grip on her forearm turned to a pinch in response, but JJ’s strides were lighter as they hurried to catch up with John B and Pope.

* * *

Kiara was nervous that JJ was nervous. She had never seen him as serious about something as he seemed to be about his place on the quidditch team, and she wanted it to work out for him. She couldn’t help but feel it sometimes seemed as though very few things did, even though he neglected to mention it.

For his first match, he’d seemed remarkably at ease all morning. She had heard tales of some of the other team members going off their food the entire day before a match, or having to be force-fed calming draughts. JJ was certainly none of those things.

Still, Kiara hadn’t missed the way he’d fidgeted with his uniform, how he’d been a beat too late laughing at a few jokes.

Now, the anticipation of waiting for all the other spectators to wander in as the game clock counted down was kind of killing her. Luckily, she’d foreseen this, so she’d brought her bag with her new knitting kit to ward off her nerves. Keeping her hands busy helped, and focusing on saving an underprivileged house elf the job helped even more.

John B and Pope were sat on either side of her. John B was gossiping about some fourth year Hufflepuffs, and Pope’s shoulders were tense due to the interruption of his reading. He’d drug along a library book on ghosts to keep himself entertained, as if he’d had serious hopes of concentrating on it at a social event with his friends. If JJ were with them, he’d have yanked the thing out of his hands by now.

Kiara held up her hat thoughtfully. It was a little lopsided, but certainly presentable. “I think I’m getting better.”

John B grinned at it, and Pope’s eyes slid up from his book. They locked on the hat. “Looks almost like my mom’s,” he lied.

Yvonne sent the boys hand knitted sweaters every year for Christmas that looked like they could’ve been professionally done. Kiara hadn’t missed the fact that she never got one, but she tried not to dwell on it. Maybe Pope just didn’t mention her in his letters quite as often, or the Heyward’s figured she already had plenty. She did, but it still hurt, just a bit.

Before Kiara knew it, Madam Hooch had blown the whistle to signify the start of the game, and players were zooming around the field in blurs of scarlet and blue. If she squinted, she could occasionally make out the big number three splayed across JJ’s back.

Once he noticed them, he did a too fancy little flip in the air in front of them, and she could just picture the satisfied grin he was wearing when John B wolf whistled. She hoped he knew she was rolling her eyes.

John B whooped every time JJ flew near them in the stands, every time JJ did anything. Kiara was more focused on the progress of the quaffle and who was leading the game. She was here to support JJ, but since she was here, she also wanted to watch the team win.

Her tide turned when the opposing team’s beater slammed into JJ, and the impact could be heard even from their seat. She leapt to her feet alongside John B, who was booing. “You can’t do that! You can’t do that!” he cried.

“Foul! That’s a foul!” Kiara yelled, but Madam Hooch seemed to have missed the collision. The game continued on, and even though JJ bounced back from the bump with ease, Kiara screamed a little too loudly when Sebastian Bell scored a goal in retaliation. Served them right.

Pope side eyed them both from his seat. “Merlin help me.”

She beamed with pride very time JJ sent a particularly a well-aimed bludger zooming towards the other team. He was probably the youngest player out there, but he was already fantastic. Judging by the excited whispers around her, everyone else was impressed with his skill on a broom, too.

She knew he’d be great at this.

Gryffindor dominated the final score by two hundred points, and they celebrated by sneaking out of the tower and spelling the Ravenclaw table to a vibrant, flaming crimson to await the losing team at breakfast the next morning.

They bounced down the stone passageways, entirely too loud for a bunch of students out of bed after hours, but when they stumbled upon a suspicious pear portrait that giggled when JJ ran his wand over it, even Pope’s complaints ceased. A second giggle, and then it was melding into a bright green door handle.

“Holy shit,” John B whispered, and JJ’s grin was blinding. His fingers reached for the handle.

“Be careful,” Kiara said, but she nodded for him to go on anyways. Sometimes Hogwarts secrets didn’t always turn out to be pleasant; they’d stumbled upon doors that screeched like a prison alarm and doors that weren’t really doors at all. They just needed to be ready for anything.

Pope bit at his nail beds, and JJ twisted the handle.

A waft of warm, heavenly scented air hit Kiara, and they all gaped. JJ actually hopped in excitement.

They’d found the elusive Hogwarts kitchens at last.

* * *

JJ’s last transformation before Christmas fell on the night of December 3rd. He endured the cracking bones and aching muscles with higher spirits than usual, because this year he was finally on a lunar schedule that made him spending Christmas at John B’s a possibility.

John B’s house was a tiny, weathered fisherman’s cottage out in the middle of nowhere. There was a flashing box called a television that John B told him wasn’t much, but they could watch some ancient movies on it. The concept was vaguely familiar to JJ from the early influence of his mom, but his dad had had such a disgust towards muggle things that he’d pretty much beat any talk of it out of both of them. The fact made him enjoy watching the people move around in the tiny box at least ten times more than he would have otherwise.

John B’s muggle father, Big John, spent the majority of the time locked up in his room, and he’d hardly given them so much as a grunt for greeting. He always kept a hot pot of tea on, though, and he called John B “Bird” as much as he called him by his name.

JJ thought the whole situation was brilliant.

The two of them spent their days getting muddy in the woods and fishing for carp with nothing but two poles and some worms they dug up themselves. No magical bait, no summoning charms. It was all very bizarre to JJ, and when he went long periods of time without catching something, he became restless and started making a game out of how far he could cast his line.

At night, they watched a series on the television that John B said had to be watched by everyone, at least once: Star Wars. The things muggles came up with honestly baffled JJ, but he thought Pope would probably get a kick out of it.

Even more brilliant was the opportunity to get the other two pogues to join them for a day in the midst of their holiday. 

They’d never gotten to exchange gifts in person, and since JJ was already at John B’s, John B had the brilliant idea of begging Pope and Kiara to come over on the 23rd. Pope seemed to think his parents would probably allow it, since he was maintaining marks so high he was ranked first in their year in just about every class except for Defense.

Kiara was more difficult. She promised to work on it, but JJ was convinced she wouldn’t make it.

“You hear from Kie?” JJ asked, the morning before Christmas Eve. He kept his voice casual, but if he was being honest, Kiara always gave the best presents, and he wouldn’t _mind_ seeing her.

“I already told you she said she’ll be here at four.”

“ _Okay_.”

“She will. Her parents just have to talk to my dad when they get here. She says they’re overprotective.”

JJ scoffed to himself. Overprotective was a mild way to put it. He hadn’t forgotten the way Mr. Carrera had stared at him over the summer, or the general way Kiara kept her home life and her school life very separate.

He did the same, but he only wished he had her problems.

Pope arrived first, with a loud _crack_ outside that signaled apparition. Big John grunted, looking up from his books. He’d reluctantly agreed to join them in the living room to greet their friends’ parents, just to assure them that some form of adult would be present.

“Yeah, that’s them.” JJ gestured towards the backyard with his thumb, and the confusion melted off John B’s brow. Sometimes when they were away at school, it was easy to forget that, his best friend still hadn’t been exposed to everyday wizard things like apparition.

And thus the Heywards came piling in the wrong entrance, Pope trailing behind them and already looking a bit embarrassed, like he was preparing himself for whatever show his folks were about to make. Mr. Heyward looked around, expression flat, and Mrs. Heyward greeted them with a warm, “Hello, boys.”

She brought a tin of cookies, so JJ automatically decided she was his second favorite friend’s parent (After Big John, of course).

“Hey, guys,” Pope said, hands folded into his pockets. He kept shooting glances at where Big John had wandered over to shake hands with both of his parents.

JJ yanked open the tin of cookies they’d brought and stuffed one into his mouth, without shame. “Glad ‘ou ‘ame,” he managed.

Mr. Heyward wasn’t subtle about giving the Routledes’ house the side eye. He hardly even waited for Big John to look away before JJ glimpsed him poking the bulb in one of the lamps with his wand.

“Damn muggles,” he muttered, and Mrs. Heyward slapped his hand.

“Stop that,” she hissed.

After the Heywards departed, JJ was caught off guard when he heard another crack of apparition, from the correct end of the house this time. This meant only one thing: John B and Kiara had been true to their word, and she’d made it.

The Carrera’s entered the correct door. Mrs. Carrera’s hair was swept up into a style meant to impress, and Mr. Carrera’s eyes scoured the room, vaguely unhappy as he had been the last time JJ had seen him. A hideous creature with bat-like ears and a clean dishtowel for a dress stood behind them, and JJ was sure the Carrera’s had had their house elf do the apparition for them.

His gaze, of course, was drawn to Kiara. She was dressed in nice red robes for the holiday, but her hair was pulled back into a typical ponytail, like half her and half her mother had gotten her ready for the day.

“Hey, Mr. C.” JJ waved. Mike did not wave back.

Kiara’s mom was preoccupied with questioning Big John. JJ couldn’t hear what she was saying, as it was muttered in the reserved tones rich, proper people used. JJ figured it probably involved a lot of making sure her daughter wasn’t going to be left alone unsupervised with hooligan boys. Big John nodded along with her, as if he wouldn’t give them a grunt of warning before retreating to the privacy of his study as soon as the Carreras left.

“We’ll be back in two hours, Kiara.” Mrs. Carrera’s voice was full of warning, like they’d been over this a dozen times. Kiara’s smile was practiced, and JJ wondered whether her parents were oblivious to the plastic around the edges or if they just preferred it that way.

“I know, Mom.”

“Make sure you have everything ready to go.”

“I will.”

The Carrera’s ducked out of the house, casting back glances like they’d rather be leaving their precious daughter literally anywhere else.

John B broke the slightly uncomfortable silence. “Glad you made it!”

“They looked positively _thrilled_ ,” JJ said. He didn’t have to specify that he was talking about her parents, because Pope tilted his head in warning, like he was afraid JJ might take it too far and say something offensive. As usual, he was ignored.

“Yeah, well.” Kiara looked smug. She had a stack of neatly wrapped boxes tucked under her arm. “They want me to not complain about their stupid New Year’s ball, so they can let me do one thing I want to.”

Almost on cue, Big John said, “You kids need anything?”

“I’m good,” JJ said.

“No thanks, Dad.”

“No sir,” Pope and Kiara chimed together.

“Alright, well,” Big John said, very clearly someone not all that accustomed to giving orders. “Stay out of trouble, alright?”

And then he was gone, reminding JJ once again why he was the most tolerable adult he’d ever met.

Kiara and Pope, especially Pope, were quite intrigued by the television, but eventually reminded of Kiara’s limited availability, they made their way over to the Christmas tree. JJ thought it was a bit of a pointless tradition when the couch was more comfy than the floor, but it made Kiara’s smile brighter, and the other two seemed in the habit, so he followed along with minimal complaint.

The Routledges’ idea of a Christmas tree was a rail thin plastic creation with branches so twisted it might’ve been hit with a weed cutting curse in a past life. The ornaments didn’t move, not once, and several of them looked like they had been hand made. It had nothing on the decorations at Hogwarts, but Luke hadn’t put up a Christmas tree once that JJ could remember. He found he enjoyed the small tree more in the company of people he loved than he enjoyed the massive ones all alone.

“The ornaments don’t move,” Pope said. He had his head cocked, inspecting Merlin knows what in the branches.

Kiara’s shoulders had relaxed now that it was just her and the pogues, and her eyes were dancing as she took in the unimpressive tree. “It’s nice.”

John B scratched at his head. “It’s not much.”

It really wasn’t. JJ couldn’t imagine what types of decorations Kiara’s house had. Didn’t want to imagine what she’d seen at the Cameron mansion during her brief excursions there.

Ornaments clanked dangerously, and JJ watched idly as John B rolled around under the tree in an attempt to wrestle out the hideously wrapped packages the two of them had managed to scrounge up. They’d gotten a book on magical plants and fungi for Pope, which Kiara had nudged them in the direction of. Naturally, once she’d mentioned a book, JJ had snatched had book called “Majestic Magical Creatures of Africa” to add to Kiara’s present from them, because for some reason she could follow Hagrid around all day looking at fanged creatures.

JJ was still getting the hang of the whole Christmas gifting business. He’d never really had money to spend until he’d taken his summer job at the Leaky Cauldron, and he sure as hell couldn’t ask Luke for spare galleons to buy his friends presents. Besides, if he wanted to give someone something that badly, why not just give it to them?

Kiara in particular had a very different view on the matter.

The boys all tended to bunch together when they gave gifts. She never batted an eye over the fact that she was the only one to give them all individual presents. _You don’t have to get me anything,_ she’d thrown out more than once when discussing Christmas plans, as if that wouldn’t make the situation awkward as hell.

“Oh, I love fwoopers,” Kiara enthused, once she pulled out her new book. It was the highlight of their gift, although they’d shoved in a few tiny prank items too. JJ would never tell her, but he’d swiped two of the whiz-bangs off a snobby Ravenclaw seventh year.

“I knew you did,” JJ said, with no clue what a fwooper was but assuming she was referring to the hideous bird on the cover.

“I knew you did,” John B mocked, in a high pitched voice. JJ retaliated with a sharp elbow to his ribs.

There were chocolate frogs and sugar quills from Kiara, as usual, but the last box was longer and thinner. He ripped it open, and a hideous red scarf stared back at him. If he looked at it long enough, he could just make out his initials stitched in gold in the corner.

Slowly, his eyes trailed from the monstrosity up to Kiara’s eager but nervous gaze. In the circle around him, he could see that John B and Pope were opening similar packages, and for once, any resolve JJ had to make a total ass of himself shriveled up and died along with all his willpower.

“Oh, nice,” John B said, holding his scarf up into the light.

“I’m still practicing…” Kiara wrung her hands.

“I can tell,” Pope muttered. His eyes grew wide as galleons, and he was quick to add, “That you’ve been practicing, I mean.”

JJ swung his scarf around his neck. “How do I look?”

“Awful.”

“Worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

JJ and Kiara both turned a glare onto the other two. John B wrapped himself up in his own scarf, giving Kiara a little shrug. “The scarf can’t fix everything, Kie,” he explained.

“Especially your awful eyes, I guess,” JJ drawled.

“You’re all idiots,” Kiara announced, but he could tell by the lifted corner of her lips that she was pleased.

Too soon, the expression fell away when Kiara’s limited time with them drew to a close.

“Hex Rafe for me,” JJ urged, when he was sure her parents couldn’t hear. Her mouth twitched even as she swatted as his arm.

“Shh,” she hissed. John B was bobbing his head in agreement with JJ, so she swatted him as well.

Even though it was time for her to go, they were full of cookies and laughter and JJ had never imagined that Christmas could be this good. He doubted there’d ever be one in his future that would top this one.

* * *

Although Kiara liked to poke fun at Pope and JJ for the dramatic decrease in their amount of free time with the arrival of third year, sometimes she didn’t feel she was much better off.

The addition of Care of Magical Creatures and Divination to her schedule, although they were what many considered to be soft options, left her scrambling to do homework more than ever. Hagrid rarely handed out many actual assignments, at least, but when either he or Professor Trelawney did, she tried to throw a lot of effort into it.

Although it took John B and JJ exactly one time seeing Professor Trelawney swoop around her attic classroom, eyes glittering behind her glasses like an overgrown dragonfly, to write the class off and begin muttering jokes under their breath while they pretended to read tea leaves, Kiara found she actually quite enjoyed both of her new classes. The idea of reading the universe’s signs pointing to the future intrigued her, and of course she adored working in close contact with magical creatures. Her parents didn’t exactly have glowing praise on Hagrid’s capabilities as a professor, but Kiara found he was a wealth of knowledge when someone such as herself expressed interest.

She found herself getting caught up in her astrology charts one chilly week in January, while she and the boys were cramming a bit of homework in in the common room before their next class. She had a blue raspberry sugar quill to suck on and a fascinating book from the library to help her complete her essay.

“Is there really a point in getting caught up in this right now? Twenty minutes til Defense?” John B asked.

The four of them were sat in a table in the common room, which was fuller than was typical for the middle of the day. The wretched temperatures had driven everyone inside, close to the fires.

JJ waggled his quill in John B’s direction. “I agree with that.”

Pope tended to mutter under his breath as he worked, and his grip on his own quill would get so tight the color faded in his knuckles when JJ and John B talked too much. Now was one of those times, and Kiara could’ve laughed at how much of a point he was making of not looking up from his notes. As if they’d even notice.

Kiara cut her eyes up from her own essay, in hopes of helping him out. “The more you do now the less you have to do tonight.”

She had to remind herself of this. Constantly. Especially when things ten times more exciting than homework tended to catch JJ’s attention, and he never hesitated to point them out.

“Fine. I’m going to get a snazzy new haircut in June,” John B said, scribbling something onto his parchment. He and JJ had long since stopped consulting class materials for what to add onto their Divination homework and progressed onto making a game out of pulling it out of their asses.

“Well I’ve got a new Nimbus headed straight my way. This year’s release, probably.” JJ added this all to his essay with a flourish.

Kiara, meanwhile, found herself growing more and more distraught as she returned to finishing off her essay. She read the passage she’d tracked. Read it again. “I’m going to have a very lonely year.”

John B and JJ laughed, like they thought maybe she was joining in on the game. It gradually died in their throats when she didn’t smile.

Lonely. She hated that word. It reminded her of her first year, before she’d found her place with the pogues, and even worse were the hints it brought of them still whispering inside jokes she didn’t get, making meaningful eye contact not meant for her. She very strongly tried to ignore that part.

“Kie…” John B eyed her like she’d lost it a little. “It’s just an essay.”

She stuffed her sugar quill in her mouth to chase away the worry in her throat, then popped it back out when it didn’t help. No further answers came. A glance up revealed that JJ was watching her peculiarly. She raised her eyebrows, casting him a _what gives_ expression. He blinked at her, like he was coming out of a daze.

“You can’t actually believe this crack. C’mom, Kie.”

“Divination is _not_ crack. It’s an art.” Kiara looked at John B and Pope for support. Pope’s eyes shot back down to his book, as some sort of pathetic effort to pretend he’d been reading the entire time.

John B winced. “Sorry, Kie. Gotta agree with JJ on this one.”

“Pope,” she pressed.

Pope’s eyelid twitched, and he dragged his gaze upwards. “Technically predicting the future is more of a theory than a reality—“

“Ugh. You guys are all lame.”

She stared down at the text again. There was a beat of silence.

“Do we not count as company anymore, or something?” JJ cocked a brow. He leaned back in his seat, and she knew he would’ve propped his feet on the table had Pope not been perched beside him to swipe them down.

“Well, _now_ you do.”

“Come on, Kie,” John B said. His expression was devoid of concern that her astrology chart had any merit. “Your year’s probably going to be great.”

“It doesn’t sound great to me.”

“Come on, Kie. With us around, you’ll never be lonely.” John B nudged her arm. “No pogue left behind, right?”

Kiara shrugged, trying to play it off the way she’d seen JJ do when he lied through his teeth. She doubted it was half as effective as when he did it, though. “Well. It also says I’m going to grow in wealth and be very prosperous, so.”

“You’re already rich,” JJ retorted.

“I’m sure Kiara’s going to have the best year ever, but we better get out of here if we don’t want Professor Peterkin to give us detention for the rest of it,” Pope urged. A quick glance at the clock revealed their time remaining before her class had ticked down to ten minutes, which was just enough to walk to the other end of the castle from the tower.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was far from a boring class. It was oftentimes enlightening, and passed by particularly fast when they would be paired off to try new spells on each other. JJ in particular tended to enjoy these days, especially because disarming the Slytherins they shared the period with seemed to give him a particular thrill.

So far, during the second half of the school year, they’d turned more towards studying dark creatures themselves rather than spells to use against other wizards, which Kiara hoped would remain more relevant in today’s time.

“No wands today,” Peterkin announced, once the class had arrived. She hesitated for a very long moment, and Kiara heard JJ’s thumbs drumming against the desk behind hers. “Today we’ll be beginning our discussion with management of dark creatures by the ministry.”

Kiara sat up straighter in her seat, her interest automatically piqued.

She was _full_ of opinions on the ministry and their treatment of magical creatures. She hadn’t been sure it would come up in Defense, but it was absolutely something she’d rather listen to Professor Peterkin discuss over someone like Professor Binns.

Her classmates could benefit from staying awake for this. At that thought, she cast a distasteful glance at the little gang of rich purebloods in the room: Sarah Cameron was watching Professor Peterkin, or at least pretending to, but Scarlet was inspecting her cuticles next to her. On her other side, Topper’s eyes flitted to the ceiling, like he was preparing himself for bullshit.

Professor Peterkin drew a wide chart on the board with three categories: Being, Beast, and Spirit. She proceeded to add dark creatures under which section of the ministry they fell under, taking special care to explain the situation of those considered “Part human”.

Kiara hated the term. Part-humans. It carried implications of worth as a human that she did not care for. Personally, she thought “part magical creature” a much more appropriate and less offensive description.

The lecture was nearing the tail end when Peterkin reached one of the more controversial subjects.

She hestitated even longer than Kiara thought she would, but soon she was saying, loud and clear, “Werewolves are a unique case. Ordinarily, they fall under the Being category, except for on the night of the full moon. Then they’re classified as Beast.”

Kiara couldn’t help but notice that Pope seemed more antsy than usual next to her. He kept adjusting himself in his seat, and glancing around the classroom with wide, nervous eyes. She’d only seen him act that way when he was trying and failing to tell a lie, or if he was waiting on one of the other boys to do something colossally stupid. He certainly never looked that way in Peterkin’s class.

“There’s been some concerns raised that the management of werewolves could be… improved. There’s the national werewolf registry, but it’s clearly not utilized properly—“

“Should be Azkaban if they don’t agree to register,” came a murmur under Topper’s breath. A few of the kids in his corner laughed.

Professor Peterkin wasn’t like Professor Binns, endlessly droning on no matter what students did. She stopped talking, the words running across the chalkboard freezing along with her. “Care to share, Mr. Thornton?”

Topper shuffled in his seat, and for a moment, Kiara thought he was going to have the decency to be embarrassed. He proved her wrong when he shook himself out of it.

His throat cleared, and he held up his hands. “I mean… I just think it’s obvious they should all be on a list. So the rest of us can be safe. Let the ministry handle it.”

Kiara’s hand shot up. She hardly waited for Professor Peterkin to glance in her direction before she was talking, her words aimed at Topper. “There should be no list at all. It’s an awful idea, and it opens doors to oppression. Everyone has a right to privacy.”

“Yeah, but I have a right to my throat not being ripped out,” Topper said, matter of fact, and Kiara had the distinct recollection of him wishing her parents a good night at the Camerons’ New Years Ball a mere few weeks ago. She wondered if they’d still think him the perfect gentleman if they could hear him now, and her scowl deepened when she realized they probably would.

“It’s not fair to judge a whole population off of what one could do. That’s dragon dung.”

“Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Peterkin urged, but in this rare instance, she went utterly ignored.

Topper let out an ugly, disbelieving laugh. “Why chance it? Normal people shouldn’t have to worry.”

He made a gesture to the other students, a sort of _am I not right_ motion.

“What the hell do you mean, _normal people_?” John B’s voice rang out from behind her, sharp and angry and very unlike him.

Any ounce of self-control Kiara had been holding onto snapped. She hissed, “I could pull out my wand and hex your dick off right now if I wanted to, but I hold myself accountable. Just like a werewolf has a right to do.”

Topper gaped like a fish, and the rest of the class started yelling very loudly all at once.

“Carrera! That’s _enough._ Thank you.” Kiara was still fuming, but slowly, she realized the amount of eyes on her. Next to her, Pope’s mouth was popped open, and she could feel JJ’s gaze boring into her back. Her neck suddenly felt very hot.

She’d never been the hotheaded one, had never made a scene. Her mom would probably kneel over dead if she had seen the way her daughter had just conducted herself, but she couldn’t really find it in herself to regret telling off Topper.

His friends were no doubt whispering at her, like she was an animal. Kiara only had the decency to sink down in her seat a slight bit when Peterkin declared, “Detention.”

The smug look slipped off of Topper’s face when she added, “Both of you.”

Kiara’s back ached from dusting the shelves in Peterkin’s classroom when she finally trudged back to the common room late that night. That woman was a menace, and she definitely never wanted to get a detention with her again if it could be avoided (Although seeing Topper’s lip curl when dust fell into his perfect hair had been a bit of a highlight).

Unusually, JJ had already crept off to bed by the time she returned, but John B gave her a standing ovation as soon as he caught sight of her. Sweaty, dusty curls and all.

“Best thing I’ve ever seen,” he enthused, slipping a wrapped but still warm pumpkin pasty into her hand. They’d been busy in the kitchens while she was gone, it seemed.

Even Pope didn’t have the first reprimanding glance to offer. “Topper’s an idiot,” he offered.

Kiara shrugged one shoulder, peeling a bite off her pasty. “Asshole had it coming.”

* * *

“What if she knows?”

“She doesn’t know, man,” John B said. He sounded very tired.

Pope flipped the page of his book with a little more force than necessary, refraining from comment, because yeah, the three of them were in the library. JJ and John B were skipping Care of Magical Creatures, because JJ liked to keep up pretenses and skip random classes here and there, just so people wouldn’t pick up too much of a pattern of absences every full moon. Kiara had deigned not to skip her favorite class, and Pope had a rare free period.

Which, of course, he chose to spend in the library. He didn’t seem particularly enthused about his friends joining him.

JJ wasn’t done with the issue at hand. “You sure about that? Because that was like, really sketch.”

Kiara’s public argument with Topper had been hot gossip amongst their entire year for days. Most people seemed to think it was hilarious, but it made JJ feel the need to shove his head straight between his knees to keep from projectile vomiting.

And he could’ve sworn she tossed him a funny look when he said he was blowing off Care of Magical Creatures, and an even funnier one when he’d asked if she wanted to join. He usually didn’t, for obvious reasons.

“I’m sure,” John B droned. Neither he nor JJ had bothered opening a book, but they’d at least had the forethought to snag a table out of direct eyesight of Madam Pince. At least she couldn’t glower skewers at them every time they whispered this way.

“Do you really think Kiara Carrera would keep her mouth shut about you not telling her if she knew?” Pope asked, eyes finally drifting up to meet JJ’s. And okay, maybe this was a point he could listen to. “But for the record, I think she knows we don’t tell her everything, and for the record, I think you should tell her.”

“Fine. She probably doesn’t know,” JJ reluctantly agreed. Pope was still watching him expectantly, so he leaned back, crossing his arms. “And for the record- _no_.”

“Why don’t you just tell her, man?” John B asked.

“I can’t.”

“It’s Kie,” John B said, like that just about summed it up.

It was Kie. That was exactly why he didn’t want her to know.

“Because. It’s no one’s business but mine, alright?” JJ dragged his fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. That was the end of it. He wasn’t going to tell her. Even though it probably made his life about a million times easier, if it were up to him, John B and Pope wouldn’t even know.

As much as JJ hated to admit it, it was getting harder. Even though he was a great liar, keeping half your identity hidden from someone who was learning you like the back of her hand was no laughing matter. Seeing the sting of hurt growing in her eyes (Because JJ might have acted oblivious, but he really, really wasn’t) when he made flimsy excuse after flimsy excuse was the worst part.

He was holding her at arm’s length, but if he didn’t walk the line carefully, he was going to send her flinging in the opposite direction. If he wasn’t a selfish asshole, he’d probably do that, anyway.

His transformation at the end of the month seemed to be a particularly sore point.

Kiara hardly glanced up at him when he sauntered in late to breakfast the morning after a total day of disappearance, trying for all he was worth to cast aside the dull ache in his temple. He had a whole line up of excuses on the tip of his tongue:

_I ate too many Bertie Bott’s._

_Had to play sick to keep from turning in McGonagall’s essay._

_Couldn’t be bothered._

JJ plopped down next to her. Her shoulders were tense, so he knew she was aware of his presence. Her gaze flitted to him, finally, and then back to her waffles just as quickly.

“Mornin’,” he tried.

Her fork clinked on her plate. There were cute little wisps of hair hanging across her forehead and jaw, slipping out of her bun. “Morning.”

She didn’t ask him about it. Didn’t even mention his dropping off the face of the Earth the day before, even though he could practically hear her screaming “No secrets amongst pogues”, and that was when he knew he was fucked.

Quidditch helped. Gave him something to think about other than his next transformation, or how he was going to have to read the frustration in Kiara’s dark eyes when he lied straight to her face yet again.

The season was going very well for him. Sebastian Bell seemed thrilled with his progress, and JJ didn’t miss the way older, richer or more popular kids acknowledged his presence in the hallway. He didn’t appreciate the way he’d started the year as just another problem kid in grubby robes to them, and he mostly figured if there was someone he gave a fuck about, he’d probably be talking to them already, but he’d managed the transition with relative grace so far.

Hearing John B huff when a pretty older girl complimented his flying didn’t hurt, though.

An even more perfect distraction for his little _Kiara issue_ materialized in the unlikely form of a different third year Gryffindor girl altogether.

Scarlet Atwood was no friend of JJ’s. In fact, he didn’t think much of her at all; she strutted around with her nose in the air, in robes even more expensive than Kiara’s, and she spent more time talking to people in other houses than acknowledging his existence.

That was, until she’d approached him after he left the locker rooms from their match against Slytherin. She had an enticing twist to her lips and a butterbeer in hand.

She’d been praising his beating skills one minute and the next, they were shoved up against the side of the broom shed, mouths pressed furiously together. Their noses bumped in the initial frenzy, but she felt nice against him, and her hair was soft under his fingers. Being so close to another person was intoxicating, and JJ felt he was on the verge of being an addict.

He found himself avoiding Scarlet’s eyes the next few days. Kissing a pretty girl was something to brag about, he supposed, but he’d woken up the morning after with the sudden realization that he had no clue how to navigate the situation after the fact.

The idea of her trying to cozy up next to him at breakfast or walk with him to class made him itch with the urge to jump from the Astronomy Tower.

Scarlet, however, worked this all out for him. She simply pretended he did not exist, turning her entire body away from him and looking straight through him a little too convincingly when she was gathered with her friends.

There was one moment in Potions when he went to collect ingredients from the stores, and his gaze caught hers too much to ignore on the way back to his seat. Her eyes widened a fraction, like a warning. The only sign she’d given that she knew he was alive in days, and Sarah Cameron was next to her, head down and obliviously going through her potions book.

Something in JJ settled, like this was what a part of him had been expecting all along. Pretty enough to mack in the dark, but too poor to hold hands with in the light of day.

He pulled a smirk onto his face in response, and her lip curled in outrage.

If this was his role, he would play it just fine.

And regardless, he didn’t much care what Scarlet thought of him. A few days of distraction, and then his mind was circling the Kiara problem again.

Because of course it was.

* * *

Kiara was adding the finishing touching to her essay on cheering charms, which was probably a good thing, because she was going to need one if the boys didn’t stop whispering.

They were gathered in the common room, near the dying embers of the fire, and the boys were using hushed voices and exaggerated gestures across the table. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, that they didn’t seem to want her to hear things, but it certainly was a bigger slap in the face now than it had been back in first year.

She wasn’t going to say anything. She really wasn’t. Just like she’d decided to stop asking them where the hell they went off to when they disappeared on her, because not asking at all should in theory result in pissing her off less than when they skirted around giving her a straight answer.

Kiara hadn’t been giving them the cold shoulder, exactly, but she’d certainly been isolating herself from more conversations over the last several days. She was fairly sure they noticed: she’s felt Pope’s probing gaze, noticed JJ’s attention lingering on her to see if she laughed at one of his jokes.

She wasn’t as strong of a person as she gave herself credit for, though. Her lips pressed together. “Why are you guys whispering?”

JJ cocked his head at her. “You’re trying to do homework,” he said, just as John B argued, “I’m not whispering.”

“Whatever.” Kiara stared down at her parchment.

JJ, of course, wasn’t about to let her have any peace. He leaned over, in her space, ocean eyes taking in her essay. “Hm. You’ve been a little slacker. I for one finished this essay hours ago.”

Kiara tried to snatch her parchment back, tried and failed to stay annoyed. “And you’ll get a T on it.”

He paused, giving her a mock affronted look, and all her attempts came crashing down when she lost the battle with the grin pulling at her lips.

“Surprised you finished anything lately,” Pope said.

John B sniggered, waggling his eyebrows. “Did Scarlet write it for you?”

“I wish,” JJ muttered, looking torn between grinning and ducking under the table. The smile won out, and her curiosity was piqued.

“Wait, what?”

John B was eager to share this bit of information with her, although JJ scratched at his ear, avoiding her gaze. “You didn’t hear? JJ macked Scarlet Atwood.”

“What?” Kiara hissed. Realized her voice sounded a little wild, and then more calmly added, “When? What?”

“The other day.” JJ shrugged.

“After the Quidditch match,” Pope clarified.

So, three days ago, Kiara realized. There was a flash of something like annoyance, that they hadn’t told her, obviously, but then she realized maybe it was her fault. She had been a bit distant lately, and judging by the grins they were all wearing, they hadn’t been going out of their way to keep it from her.

She settled on saying, “Oh.”

Her mind ran over a mental calculation of Scarlet’s behavior. She couldn’t remember seeing her speak to JJ once since the match. Kiara had been quiet and withdrawn, not totally absent from her friends’ sides.

They definitely didn’t seem like each other’s type. Scarlet seemed like someone who would chase someone insufferable, like Topper. And Kiara didn’t know what she pictured JJ’s type to be, but it definitely wasn’t Scarlet.

She wondered if the appropriate thing was to ask him how it had been, or if he liked her. Maybe she didn’t really want to know.

“Won’t be happening again, though,” JJ said, voice light. He’d leaned back in his chair again, eyes closed. “I’m sure I’ve ruined other men for her.”

“Yeah. So much that she’s not even talking to you,” Pope deadpanned.

“Not everyone has that touch,” John B added, even though Kiara was 99% certain he’d never so much as held hands with a girl other than her.

“Like you’d know anything about it.” JJ’s eyebrows were pinched together in mock offense, but letting her eyes roam over him, Kiara decided he looked relatively cool with the fact that Scarlet was apparently avoiding him. Her shoulders relaxed.

She stretched out her arms, glancing over her essay one last time. Her vision was a little glazed from looking at it for so long. “Alright. Well, as interesting as this is, I think I’m gonna go to bed, guys. I’m pretty tired.”

“Oh. Night.”

“So early?”

“Goodnight.”

She was the first one in the room, which was a bit of a relief, considering she didn’t particularly want to see Scarlet’s face and picture her macking her best friend.

Kiara tucked her chin into her quilt, counting the lines in the ceiling. JJ and Scarlet. Macking.

An odd thought.

* * *

Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was typically JJ’s favorite class, became the one he dreaded again, because of course it fucking did.

No, he hadn’t been quietly pulled aside and warned by Peterkin that they would be discussing some _sensitive_ topics over the next few weeks again. They had moved on from werewolves for the rest of the year, in fact, but listening to people yap about him being a bloodthirsty killer was second nature to him by that point. After all, he was hardwired to be one, wasn’t he?

“We’ll be practicing with real boggarts next class period, so practice your charm,” Peterkin had said on Wednesday as they filed out of class.

JJ didn’t pay as close of attention during lectures as he did during practical lessons. Even in Defense, an art he ached to learn (Ached for the control and abilities learning it would grant him), he found his attention slipping away to things like how he could curse Topper to have donkey ears, or the way that when Kiara leaned back, stretching her shoulders at least three times per lesson, he sometimes caught a whiff of her coconut conditioner.

But he’d held on to enough about the concept of boggarts to know he very much did not wish to repel one in front of the entire class. The entire class, which consisted of not only every third year Gryffindor, but the third year Slytherins as well.

The class period in question came sooner than he was prepared for it to.

“Remember. _Riddikulus_.”

John B stood on the tips of his toes, and Kiara was peering down the line Peterkin had gathered them in curiously. They were towards the end, but they could still clearly see her preparing a dank trunk at the head of the classroom.

“I like this spell,” John B said, oblivious to the way JJ was clenching his jaw.

A few seconds later, and Pope’s eyes bulged, like the possibilities of the situation had just occurred to him. He looked from JJ, to John B, and back to JJ so obviously JJ felt a swell of relief that Kiara had her back turned. “Dude,” Pope hissed, nudging John B’s shoulder.

It took John B a moment to realize. His freckled face grew dark with dread. “Oh, shit.”

They were watching him like a wild beast that might bolt, which wasn’t exactly that far from the truth, but he knew what they were thinking, as the boggart swished into the form of a enormous, ragged rat before the first student. A girl somewhere shrieked.

They were thinking he was going to see a full moon, or maybe the glint of a werewolf’s blood coated fang, but they were wrong. If he did see the form of a werewolf, it wouldn’t be himself.

He was most afraid to stand in front of his class and have them all see him tremble beneath the presence of Luke Maybank.

JJ wiped at his nose. He shifted from foot to foot.

“Maybe we’ll run out of time,” Pope suggested, but the line continued forward much more quickly than JJ would have liked. There was a series of pops as the boggart was vanquished again and again, and the laughter of the class rang in his eyes. There were spiders, snakes, clowns, but no fathers threatening their sons with claw like nails around their throats.

Kiara snorted when Sarah Cameron went up, but JJ didn’t even see what her boggart had flashed to. He was too busy trying to look calm and collected, and failing, judging by the way John B was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“We’ll go first,” John B muttered, when the line thinned more and more.

Soon it was John B’s turn to move forward, and there was something incredibly average: a bloody body roaring forward with some sort of muggle saw in hand. Just as quickly, the sharp points had softened into a balloon animal, and JJ was one step closer.

Kiara glanced back at him, ready to exchange a grin at John B’s success. Her forehead crumpled immediately. “What’s up?”

Pope shoved her forward for her turn, and of all things, the Boggart popped into a likeness of John B. The likeness reared back, sneering. “Merlin, you’re so annoying.”

For a moment, JJ was blinded to the nerves creeping along his skin by pure confusion. Before he could grasp what was going on, the Boggart was him. “When are you going to stop begging for attention already, huh?” The other JJ sneered.

And then came Sarah Cameron, and Scarlet Atwood, each in turn spewing random insults about Kiara. How dare she do that publically, and who did she think that she was, being such a try hard? Finally, her wand swished, and the boggart was a big fat court jester. She tucked her hair behind her ears, shuffling stiff legged back to the boys.

JJ only had a moment to search her gaze before he heard McGonagall telling Pope to pack his bags, how he may as well join the house elves in the kitchen because he was such a failure. It was his turn next.

He did the only sensible thing. He turned on his heel, pushing through his classmates to make for the door.

He tugged at the roots of his hair, humiliation coursing through his body. He thought someone may have called after him, but he didn’t stop until he was in the courtyard on the ground floor. The biting cold chewed at his skin, bringing him back to the present, and his breathing calmed.JJ didn’t really care that he’d probably made a scene. His class surely already thought he was a lunatic, but at least they didn’t know he was a lunatic afraid of his own father.

He sagged onto one of the stone tables in the courtyard, alone with the towering stone walls around him and his own thoughts. It was too chilly for anyone sensible to be outside without purpose.

At least, he was alone, until the familiar, slender shape of Kiara materialized around the corner. She was gazing down at him with her large doe eyes, and he made a point of pretending he didn’t see her.

“JJ…”

Kiara became even harder to ignore when she sunk onto the bench next to him. She didn’t reach out to touch him, but judging by the bunching of her fingers on her knees, she really wanted to. He was glad she didn’t. He was tense all over, didn’t know that he wouldn’t just rip out of her grip completely.

“Don’t worry about it, alright?” JJ said. He didn’t know whether he was angry or relieved it didn’t come out as snappish as he’d intended.

Her eyes went to the ground. There was a pause, like she was weighing her options. He could practically hear the cogs in her mind whirring. He braced himself for the questions; it was harder to brush things off when he was already worked up.

She gave a little nod. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, almost dumbly.

She’d shifted slightly, and although she still wasn’t touching him, he could feel the warmth radiating off her robes.

“So, John B might have set the trunk on fire after you left.”

Despite himself, JJ couldn’t stop the little snort of laughter than slipped out. Especially when he imagined how Pope had probably stared after Kiara, who’d charged after him in spite of the protests they’d no doubt raised.

“That’s my boy.”

She grinned. “He didn’t want us to get busted for skipping I guess.”

JJ would have to remember to thank him later. Peterkin’s detentions sucked ass.

“Maybe we owe him one. Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

She chuckled, and he basked in the sound. After a moment, there was a warm, hesitant brush across his shoulders. He stiffened.

Kiara was watching him intently, like she was waiting for him to snap at her or push her hand away. He was waiting on it, too, but his heart rate was steadying back out to a dull strum, and something in his expression must have given her confidence.

Her hand fell flat on his back, fingers tracing gentle circles. JJ didn’t even realize he’d been leaning away until his opposite elbow hit the edge of the table. His shoulders slumped. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

Slowly but surely, the tension drained out of him, and he allowed himself to melt into her touch.

* * *

“Kiara?” It was Peeler’s voice. She rolled over in her bed, tilting her head in question, and the other girl’s moment of hesitation gave her a brief debate over whether she was really that unapproachable or not.

She probably was, but whatever news Peeler had evidently won out over it. “Pope’s at the door for you.”

And suddenly she was grateful it wasn’t Scarlet who had been caught on her way to the dormitory, because she really didn’t feel like watching the other girl smirk while she informed her one of her boys was outside. Like they were little pets, lined up for Kiara’s choosing and angling to be selected as her favorite.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence that one of them used this method to catch her. They, or rather, JJ, had learned the inaccessibility of the girls’ dorms the hard way.

Kiara, of course, had thought it was hilarious. He had busted his ass one morning, rushing towards her dorm to tell her something, when all of a sudden the stairs melted into a slide and his feet were flying out from under him. Once she was certain he hadn’t broken anything, she’d spent the rest of the day sending him taunting little half smiles to let him know she would never stop laughing about it.

She also thought it was incredibly naïve of the staff to assume girls were any more trustworthy than the boys.

Kiara had already taken a bath and changed into her sleep pants, so her curls were still damp after she pushed Lyra off her chest and descended the stairs. They’d had a late night magically levitating half the tables from Slughorn’s classroom the night before, Pope dragging his hands over his eyes while JJ said, “This guy called me Mayweather today. You seriously think he’ll know it was us?”

She’d been planning on calling it early tonight, but sure enough, Pope stood at bottom of the staircase, pleading at her with his eyes.

“What’s up?” Her eyes darted around for John B and JJ, but they were nowhere to be found. Judging by Pope’s expression, this wasn’t a good thing.

“The guys wanted me to get you.”

His voice was low, and Kiara took his hint. No one batted an eye when she followed him towards the boys’ dormitories. Prefects were technically supposed to report girls heading towards the wrong dormitory, but none were in sight. Besides, it wasn’t the first time she had done it, and it certainly wouldn’t be her last.

“What are they doing?” Kiara asked, once they turned the first corner.

“Remember that tunnel we found last month?”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“Yeah. They said it’s a surprise.” He said this as if that was the worst thing he’d ever heard. Kiara chewed her lip. It was hard to tell in these cases whether Pope was overreacting or whether the other two were on the fast track to expulsion.

She always felt better if she was there to keep an eye on them, but the pang of exclusion was something she was used to by this point. At least this time Pope was just as out of the loop as she was.

Their dorm was the same as it always was: Pope’s four-poster against one wall, spotless except for his Transfiguration textbook and the corners of his quilt tucked carefully away under his mattress. On the other side of the room, John B and JJ’s things were splayed together in a mass indistinguishable to probably anyone but them. The pogue banner hovered above it, the half-followed rules taunting her as always.

The vaguely unpleasant scent Kiara could only identify as “boy” hung in the air, despite how much the house elves no doubt visited. She snuck instant air fresheners in whenever she could get away with it, but JJ was on the firm footing that he didn’t like everything he owned to smell like “that girly shit”.

Pope propped against his bed, eyes darting to the door. “If they’re caught, we don’t know _anything_.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Kiara looked at the two other beds. After a brief moment of debate, she perched on the edge of JJ’s, crushing half of a secondhand red and gold tie in the process.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait as long as Kiara feared they might. The missing boys crashed into the room, a bag cradled between JJ’s arms and wearing grins that only meant they’d accomplished something particularly heinous.

Kiara climbed to her feet. “What did you guys do?”

“Got the means to the best night ever, that’s what,” JJ said. He adjusted the bag in his grasp, pulling it open so that the other two could see inside.

Two sleek bottles of Ogden’s winked back at her, and Kiara thought Pope might pass out.

“How’d you guys get this?” Kiara asked. She’d never seen it up close apart from the locked cabinet at home and below the small bar at the Wreck. Her dad never even let her near that area when she was working, probably because Anna had been in his ear hammering home how tragic it would be if their thirteen year old was seen swiping some.

“That Hog’s Head place that you dissed-“ JJ began, and Kiara exchanged a wild glance with Pope, seeing the dots click into place for him at the same time.

“I left some galleons on the counter,” John B quickly promised.

JJ rolled his eyes, dragging some glasses out from under John B’s bed that Kiara was sure she didn’t even want to know how long had been there, and especially not the last time they had been cleaned. He popped open the first bottle with his teeth, ignoring Kiara’s hiss of protest.

Pope had begun to pace. He kept dragging his gaze away from where JJ was pouring liquid into the glasses, like he didn’t want to see but physically couldn’t stop watching. “This is officially the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“You’re sure no one saw you?” Kiara frowned, although she took a hand off her hip to accept the glass John B shoved towards her.

“Positive.” JJ was grinning. When he was this happy, his smile was infectious as his volatile temper was scary on his worst days. Looking at him, Kiara found it hard not to be a little excited about the liquid swishing around in the bottom of her glass.

“Hallway was clear, and hardly anyone was in the common room,” John B assured them.

A glass was pushed into Pope’s hands, then, and he glared at JJ, like he was trying to hand him a cup of poison. JJ clapped him on the back. “Chill, dude. We got butterbeer for you.”

“ _And_ it’s a Friday night,” John B added.

A slow smile crept on Kiara’s face. “Well… Cheers?”

Her mom had nagged and nagged about her even spending two hours in the boys’ company over Christmas, about how they just didn’t seem like the best _influence_. Anna would die if she could see her at that very moment, and that thought made her even more eager.

“Cheers,” JJ and John B echoed, their glasses reaching out to clank with hers. Even Pope’s was somewhere in the mix, he clearly having resigned himself to his fate.

Kiara had never been one for half assing things. She tipped the glass all the way back, and the firewhiskey slithered out, burning down her throat so that she had to cover her cough once she’d downed it.

“Shit,” she sputtered. John B and JJ gagged alongside her, and Pope glanced between them, like he couldn’t decide who to fix his best judgey eyes on.

Kiara had to admit, her first thought was that she couldn’t imagine why anyone would drink this for fun. A few gulps in, however, and she could hardly imagine thinking at all.

Like the roll of a dice, John B turned out to be the one who held his alcohol the worst. He was moaning only a few shots in, heaved over in a way that Kiara probably would’ve found a little concerning if her head wasn’t so foggy.

“Hey, guys- no-“ Pope’s hands went to his head when JJ stumbled on to the top of his four-poster, swaying dangerously. At Pope’s side, John B gagged dramatically, like the contents of his stomach might hurdle out at any second. Pope flinched, even when nothing emerged aside from a low, unpleasant belch.

Kiara found this all very funny. Her giggle carried through the room, and JJ’s contagious laughter was soon joining hers.

It took Pope one moment of taking his eyes off of JJ in favor of John B for Kiara to find her hand in JJ’s, teetering dangerously but allowing him to haul her upwards to join him.

Her hands landed on his shoulders, and his breath mingled with hers, sharp like the bite of the firewhiskey. His eyes shined like pools of water and she wondered if he tasted like firewiskey, too.

“Guys, get down— you’re going to break something!” Pope yelled.

Kiara succumbed to another giggling fit, and suddenly JJ was perched on the other end of the bed, the former warmth of him next to her vacant. Her laughter rang out again when he actually listened to Pope ands slid to the floor. He’d stopped laughing.

The last thing Kie remembered was a loud, horrible sound that had Pope screeching about a scourgify charm.

Then light was filtering through the curtains, shooting to Kiara’s eyes and highlighting the crushing pain in her skull. But the angle of the light was wrong, and when Peeler snored, it wasn’t usually so loud, was it?

Because it wasn’t Peeler. It was radiating straight out of John B, who was crushed up in his tiny four-poster, head to foot with a blonde tuff of hair Kiara recognized as JJ’s.

Kiara’s first coherent thought after _I feel like shit_ was she couldn’t believe she’d stayed all night in the boys’ dorm. Her second was to wonder why the hell she hadn’t done it before?

At some point, she’d passed out, commandeering JJ’s bed as her own with none of the guilt she now felt as she stared at his longer arms and legs teasing the edges of John B’s bed. The crimson quilt was on the floor, like the two boys had had a battle over it in their sleep that had ended on it being thrown to the ground.

The night had been good. For the night, the alcohol and laughter seeped into the cracks like glue, carrying her away into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on over to my tumblr (alphinias) if you'd like! Otherwise I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Thanks for reading babes! It will probably be a minute before fourth year is posted, but I'm very excited to write it.


End file.
